I was thrown into a horror game.
Terrifying for anyone with normal vision.
Iâm nearly blind.
I mistook the blood-red loli for a lost child.
I mistook the headless final boss for her dad.
Now theyâre both glued to meâ
the girl wrapping herself around my waist,
the father pulling her off and tossing her across the hallway,
both hissing,
âSheâs mine.â
0[Welcome to the “House of Happiness” mission.
[Players who survive for seven days in this mission will pass.
[Initial players: 30; Currently alive: 30.
[We wish all players an enjoyable game~]
After dying in a car accident, a flash of white light passed, and I arrived in front of a large building. An eerie mechanical voice sounded in my ears.
Because I’m severely nearsighted, I can’t distinguish between people and animals within 10 feet.
I couldn’t see what the building looked like clearly, nor could I make out the exact appearance of the people around me. I could only see vague human shapes.
At this time, I heard a fragile schoolgirl crying: “Wah, where is this? I want to go home.”
A yellow-haired guy cursed angrily: “Who’s messing with us? Let me go back!”
A relatively calm man and woman stepped forward. They introduced themselves as veteran players named Rachel and Jack, and kindly explained to us.
This was an infinite horror game, and those pulled into this game were all dead people.
If we could clear all the missions and accumulate the legendary 9999 points, we could be resurrected.
Hearing we could be resurrected, I hurriedly asked: “So how many points can you get for clearing one mission?”
Rachel seemed a bit down and said softly: “It depends on your terror value when you clear it. If you clear with 99 terror, you’ll only get 1 point. If you hit 100 terror, you die instantly.”
Terror value, as the name suggests, is the degree of fear.
Veteran players familiar with the game can usually keep their terror below 60.
As for new players, well, it’s pretty rough.
I rubbed my chin and asked again: “Then what if you clear with 0 terror? Can you get 100 points?”
As soon as I said this, unbeknownst to me, everything was being livestreamed. Countless comments mocked me:
[This newbie is so arrogant! Although the House of Happiness is only an S-rank mission and not the highest level, it’s still never been cleared due to its insane difficulty!]
[Didn’t the famous player James from the top guild fail here last time? He made it to day 6 but still died in the end.]
[We’re screwed, this random matchmaking only has two veteran players, Rachel and Jack. The two of them together aren’t as good as James. Looks like it’ll be a team wipe again.]
0
Soon, it was time for us to choose rooms.
Rachel said that although no one had cleared this mission before, the players who died previously had figured out some tips.
This building has 30 floors total, with one apartment per floor. Only one player can stay on each floor.
And the House of Happiness is actually a role-playing horror mission.
There are some ghosts living in each apartment, and they will play various close relationships with the players.
So how could the terror value not fluctuate dramatically after living together for seven days?
Jack hurriedly interrupted Rachel and pulled her along to choose the first and second floors.
Seeing the veteran players make this choice, some smart people quickly followed suit and chose the lower floors.
Because of my poor eyesight, I couldn’t run fast enough, so I had to wait for everyone else to choose.
In the end, only the 30th floor was left for me.
Taking advantage of the fact that I couldn’t see, the comments were chattering again:
[This newbie is dead for sure. Everyone knows the higher the floor, the higher level the boss.]
[Especially the 30th floor, it’s all big bosses, known as the House of Death.]
I reached the 30th floor and looked around, finding it not much different from reality. Just a bit more bloody smell, redder walls, lower temperature, darker lighting…
Plus, this was a huge penthouse! With the family I’ve always dreamed of!
You should know, in reality I’m not only a severely nearsighted useless person, but also an orphan, and even more so a poor dog!
I walked to the door, unhesitatingly reached out my hand, knocked hard, and shouted:
“Open up quick, baby’s home! I’ll starve to death if you don’t open!”
The comments were stunned:
[Is she purely seeking death? Which player doesn’t politely knock or wait quietly at the door for the ghosts to be in a good mood to open up.]
[I don’t want to watch this brainless woman anymore. I’m switching to another stream. I’ll go watch Rachel.]
[Keep watching! I want to see how she dies!]
0
Actually, they don’t understand my thought process.
Since it’s role-playing and we’re supposed to become a family with the ghosts, of course we should interact naturally.
In real life, would you very politely say “Hello, is anyone there? Please help me open the door” when returning to your own home?
After knocking, the door creaked open and a chill swept over my entire body.
I sighed comfortably. This was simply a summer resort. No need for air conditioning even in summer.
I looked down and saw a small red “figure”.
Although my vision was always blurry, the two braids swinging back and forth suggested it was a child in a red dress.
The child smiled eerily and suddenly pounced at me, her icy little hands gripping my neck.
I hugged her in my arms, feeling her dress was wet, and immediately said disapprovingly:
“How can a child wear wet clothes? Take them off quickly! I’ll get you changed into dry clothes!”
My nose twitched, smelling a bloody scent, and I anxiously asked:
“Are you hurt somewhere? Where’s the first aid kit? I’ll help you treat it.”
The comments bitterly complained:
[Sister, open your dog eyes and look! This is one of the bosses of the House of Death. What she’s wearing isn’t a wet red dress, it’s dyed red from killing and dismembering players! The bloody smell isn’t because she’s hurt, it’s the players’ blood on her dress.]
[Never mind, when that person comes home, she’s dead for sure.]
Unfortunately, I couldn’t see these comments. I carried the child into the house while helping her take off the red dress. I found a new white dress in her exquisite princess room and put it on her.
The child’s little hands gripping my neck unconsciously loosened.
Sensing her uncertainty, I took a warm towel, leaned in closer, and gently wiped the blood stains off her face bit by bit.
Only then did I see clearly that she was an adorable little loli.
I smiled and pointed at my face, saying: “As family members, helping each other is what I should do. But shouldn’t you give me a kiss to show your thanks?”
The little loli shyly tugged at her white dress, quietly leaned in to my face, and gave me a quick peck before quickly pulling away.
Her voice was soft and sweet as she said: “Thank you, Mommy.”
What? Mommy?
I’ve become a painless mother!
This is simply too awesome!
You should know, in reality I’ve heard so many stories of women dying in childbirth. Although I long for a family, I’m most afraid of giving birth.
I had just coaxed the little loli to take an afternoon nap when I heard the mechanical voice announce:
[Initial players: 30; Currently alive: 20.]
I didn’t expect that just from choosing rooms, 10 players had already died.
I opened my phone and held it close to my eyes, barely able to make out the text on the screen.
It turned out everyone was exchanging information in the player group chat, like how other players died.
Apparently, Brad and three other men had fought fiercely over the 3rd floor.
In the end, Brad narrowly won and moved into the 3rd floor.
As soon as Brad knocked on the door, a human-bodied dog-headed ghost walked out, opened its bloody maw, and swallowed Brad whole.
It then chewed a few times and spat out some white bones with bits of flesh still attached.
Through the half-open door, other players saw a large pile of bones inside. They guessed those were probably the remains of previous players.
Witnessing this, basically all the new players’ adrenaline spiked.
Now except for Rachel and Jack, everyone’s terror value was at 50, and this was only the first day!
There was also a middle-aged uncle whose terror value shot up to 100 the instant he walked through the 10th floor door, and he died directly.
The other players died in various ways, either killed by ghosts or scared to death.
Of course, none of this had anything to do with me.
I stood up and, while the little loli was sleeping, diligently found a mop from the bathroom and cleaned the entire apartment.
I scrubbed the red floor tiles until they turned white. I’m really capable!
The red stains on the walls that I couldn’t clean off, I just scraped away with a chisel.
By the time I finished, it was already afternoon. My back ached from the work, so I lay down on the sofa next to the little loli and fell into a deep sleep.
When I woke up again, I was enveloped by an icy aura.
The room was very dark, and a blurry black shadow stood in front of me.
Although I couldn’t see clearly, I was captivated by his voice from his very first sentence.
0
He chuckled in a low, sexy voice:
“Heh, interesting. You’ve actually survived this long with Poppy.”
Immediately after, the little loli Poppy’s cold voice also sounded:
“You’d better not touch her. This mommy is quite interesting. I want to keep her to play with.”
The man didn’t respond to her. With a wave of his hand, the little loli named Poppy flew backwards off the sofa, crashed into the balcony glass with a loud “bang”, along with the sound of bones shattering.
The man laughed coldly: “Who allowed you to talk to me like that? You really think you’re my daughter?”
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I scrambled up from the sofa, muttering:
“Who allowed you to talk to a child like that? What kind of father are you?”
I meant to slap the man’s face, but somehow my hand slipped and grabbed his abs instead.
Tsk, the feeling was so good I couldn’t help but feel them up a couple more times.
Seeing the man on the verge of exploding with rage, his whole body emitting black energy, I hurriedly tried to salvage the situation:
“Poppy is my little treasure, you’re my big treasure. We’re just a loving family.
“Actually, um, honey, your body is pretty nice, but why do you look a bit short?
“It’s okay, now that I’m here, I’ll cook delicious food for you every day. I guarantee both father and daughter will grow tall.”
The comments went crazy:
[God, what is she saying? How dare she say these things in front of the Headless Big Boss!]
[Finally the Headless Big Boss appears. He should be the strongest boss in the House of Happiness mission, right? James died at his hands back then.]
[But why is the Big Boss’s face suspiciously red? I’m shipping it.]
[Above, you’re just hungry.]
The livestream audience was all waiting for the man to snap my neck.
That was the fate of previous players.
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When I was four, my younger brother, Noah, and I both drowned.
Only I survived, and from that day on, Mom hated me.
At night, countless times, she’d try to force colorful “sweets” into my mouth, but Dad always stopped her just in time.
Later, I cut off my long hair, shed my princess dresses, and tried desperately to live as Noah’s shadow.
Only then would Mom spare me a glance.
Three years passed.
Mom became pregnant again, announcing that her beloved Noah had returned!
I was happy for her. Noah was coming back, which was great…
Because then, this family wouldn’t need me, the replacement, anymore.
I found the “sweets” Mom had once tried to feed me, and quietly swallowed them.
The “sweets” dissolved in my mouth, releasing a bitter taste. I couldn’t help but hunch over, dry heaving, bile and saliva rising to my lips.
These were the pills Mom had hidden in the deepest part of her closet three years ago. Back then, she would often sit by my bed late at night, her eyes vacant, whispering:
“Why aren’t you dead yet?”
Now, I was finally fulfilling Mom’s obsession.
I wore a boy’s school uniform, its collar frayed. It was Noah’s old uniform, long outgrown, but Mom said⊠I had to keep wearing it to be more like him.
Mom’s laughter, a tenderness I’d never heard directed at me, echoed from the living room.
She was stroking her stomach, talking to Dad, Robert:
“The doctor said it’s definitely a boy this time. Look how stable the pregnancy is.” Her voice was sickeningly sweet. “Soon⊠I won’t have to look at that blight on our family’s face ever again.”
I wanted one last look at Mom’s smiling face.
Just as I reached the doorway, Dad saw me first, his brow furrowing. “Scarlett, why aren’t you doing your homework?”
His gaze swept over my uniform, then quickly flicked away, as if he’d seen something offensive.
Mom turned, her smile freezing instantly. “Who told you to come out? Your hair’s grown out again. Didn’t I tell you to cut it short, just like Noah’s buzz cut?”
She hurried over, her finger jabbing hard at my head. “Always causing trouble. When Noah is born, if you dare to bother him, I’ll break your legs.”
I flinched back, the red mark on my forehead stinging.
The “sweets” in my stomach seemed to be dissolving, a throbbing pain rising in my abdomen, forcing me to bend over.
Dad started to come to my aid, but Mom blocked him. “Don’t touch her. She’s probably just faking it for sympathy.”
I bit my lip, saying nothing, slowly retreating to my room.
With every step, my stomach felt like it was being twisted by knives. My limbs began to go numb, and even my hands clutching the doorframe trembled uncontrollably.
I lay on the bed, my body starting to twitch.
The door pushed open. It was Dad, holding a glass of warm water.
He placed the glass on my nightstand, hesitating for a long moment before saying, “Scarlett, your mom is pregnant. Her emotions are a bit volatile, so don’t take it to heart.”
I shook my head, but only a weak whimper escaped. Dad’s figure began to blur in my vision.
Dad sighed, then simply pulled the blanket over me. “Get some good sleep. You’ll be fine tomorrow.”
He closed the door as he left, and silence enveloped the room.
I reached under my pillow for the small toy car, Noah’s favorite.
Most of its paint had chipped off, but I polished it clean every day.
Mom said it was Noah’s, and I had to keep it safe. Last time, when a classmate tried to take it, I fought desperately, taking a beating to get it back.
Gradually, my vision blurred completely. I hugged the toy car tightly and closed my eyes.
Mom, Noah is coming back. You won’t have to suffer looking at me, your replacement, anymore.
This way, it’s truly good.
Slowly, I felt the pain fade away.
Like a dandelion seed carried by the wind, I floated gently into the air, clearly seeing the small body on the bed.
The crumpled school uniform clung to her, her face as white as paper, her lips an unnatural purplish-blue. A smudge of undigested bile still clung to the corner of her mouth, and in her hand, she clutched that small toy car.
Mom pushed the door open just as I was looking down at my own hands.
They were transparent, allowing the sunlight to pass through them, revealing a photo of Noah.
She didn’t glance at me on the bed. Instead, she walked straight to the desk, picked up Noah’s photo, and meticulously wiped it clean, murmuring, “Noah, Mom’s going to buy you a new bassinet today. Do you like blue or yellow?”
She turned to leave, accidentally kicking the bedframe.
Only then did she impatiently glance at me on the bed, frowning. “Still sleeping? The sun’s practically noon. Get up and make breakfast. Do you want to starve Noah and me?”
I floated in front of her, trying to speak, but she couldn’t hear me. She shuffled out in her slippers, still humming a lullaby.
From the living room, I heard Dad, Robert, scrambling eggs, and Mom’s, Claire’s, instructions: “Add two more spoonfuls of sugar. Noah always loved sweets.”
I floated to the kitchen doorway, watching Dad put pancakes on a plateâthey were heart-shaped.
I used to love pancakes like that, too, but ever since Noah died, Dad had only made round ones. He said Noah didn’t like anything fancy.
Mom took the plate, carefully placing it in the center of the dining table, as if worshipping a precious artifact.
“Go wake her up for breakfast,” Mom told Dad, her tone full of impatience. “Don’t let her make us late for buying Noah’s bassinet.”
Dad put down his glass of milk and walked towards my room.
I followed behind him, watching him stand by the bed, reaching out his hand, then letting it fall onto the blanket instead.
“Scarlett, time to get up.” His voice was soft. “We’re going to buy a bassinet today. Do you want to come with us?”
The me on the bed didn’t stir. Dad’s fingers trembled, and he nudged my shoulder. “Scarlett?”
Mom’s voice came from the living room. “What’s taking so long? Is she faking sleep again?”
She hurried in, saw Dad frozen by the bed, and immediately flared up. “She’s definitely faking it! She just doesn’t want us to buy Noah a bassinet! Let’s just go without her. Noah is waiting!”
Dad didn’t move. He looked at me on the bed, very agitated. “She’s our daughter too!”
“She is not!” Mom shrieked. “My only child is Noah! She’s the one who killed Noah!”
She grabbed the photo from the desk and smashed it to the floor. Glass shards cut Dad’s hand.
Dad didn’t say a word, just quietly picked up the fragments, wrapping his wound with a tissue.
The living room phone rang. It was Ms. Rodriguez, my teacher, from school.
Mom answered, her tone immediately softening. “Hello, Ms. Rodriguez, is this about Noah⊠oh no, I mean, about Scarlett?” Hearing the teacher ask why I hadn’t been to school, Mom’s voice turned cold again. “She’s just intentionally skipping school. Ms. Rodriguez, please don’t bother with her. Let her fend for herself.”
She hung up the phone, then pulled Dad outside. “Let’s go. Don’t let her make us late for buying Noah’s bassinet.”
Dad looked back at my room, his steps faltering, but Mom pulled him away.
The moment the door closed, I saw Dad wipe his eyes.
The house was eerily silent, only the ticking of the wall clock breaking the stillness.
I floated to the bedside, looking at myself.
My face was still round, but it was so gaunt it was unrecognizable, my chin unnaturally sharp.
My hair had grown quite a bit, covering my eyes, not short as Mom demanded.
I remembered the last haircut. The stylist accidentally cut it a bit too short, and Mom had yelled at him, saying he’d ruined Noah’s look.
When we got home, she made me kneel for two hours, then told me I wasn’t worthy of having hair like Noah’s.
As I knelt there, looking at Noah’s photo, I suddenly felt very distant.
In the afternoon, Mom and Dad returned, carrying a blue bassinet embroidered with little bears.
Mom couldn’t stop smiling, placing the bassinet in the center of the living room and telling Dad, “Noah will definitely love this. He always loved sleeping with a teddy bear.”
Dad glanced at my room, then quietly asked, “Shouldn’t we check on Scarlett?”
Mom’s face instantly hardened. “Why check on her? She’ll come out when she’s hungry.”
She sat by the bassinet, gently rocking it, humming a lullaby, her eyes filled with a tenderness that could melt.
I floated closer, looking at the blue bassinet.
It was small, delicate, just what Noah would have liked.
Mom used to say she’d buy it for his birthday, but Noah left before his birthday came.
Now the bassinet was finally here, and its little owner would soon return in another form.
Mom suddenly looked up, as if sensing something, and glanced towards where I was.
I quickly floated to the ceiling. Her gaze swept over the empty living room, then she frowned and lowered her head, continuing to rock the bassinet.
“Noah, Mom is waiting for you to come back,” she whispered. “I’ll never let you leave again.”
I looked at her profile, feeling no sadness at all.
Mom was finally getting her Noah back. And I, the replacement, was finally fading away for good.
This way, everyone could find happiness.
On the third morning, a knocking on the front door echoed through the house, so loud it sounded like the doorframe would splinter.
I floated to the living room, watching Mom impatiently open the door. Ms. Rodriguez, my school teacher, stood outside.
“Scarlett’s mom,” Ms. Rodriguez’s face was stern, “Scarlett hasn’t been to school for three days. I couldn’t reach you by phone, so I came to check.”
She peered into the house. “Is Scarlett home?”
Mom’s face immediately darkened. She blocked the doorway, preventing Ms. Rodriguez from entering. “She’s home, just throwing a tantrum and refusing to go to school. Please don’t worry about her; I’ll talk to her.”
“It’s not about a tantrum,” Ms. Rodriguez frowned. “Last week, some students reported that Scarlett was being bullied at school. Those kids were trying to pull off her clothes and splashing cold water on her. I wanted to discuss how to handle it with you, but I couldn’t get a hold of you.”
Mom jumped up like a cat whose tail was stepped on. “Don’t listen to those kids’ nonsense! Scarlett must have provoked them herself! She’s been mean-spirited since she was a child; she killed her brother, and now she wants to act pitiful at school for sympathy!”
Ms. Rodriguez’s face grew even more serious. “Scarlett’s mom, I saw Scarlett’s injuries, they’re all recent. And from what I understand, Scarlett was protecting a classmate when those children bullied her. She’s very well-behaved at school and works hard. You can’t talk about her like that.”
“Well-behaved, my foot!” Mom shrieked, her voice so loud it could be heard throughout the hallway. “If she were well-behaved, how would Noah have died? She’s a jinx! I shouldn’t have let her live!”
Ms. Rodriguez was startled by her outburst, sighing. “If you continue like this, I’ll have no choice but to contact child protective services. Scarlett is a good child; you can’t treat her this way.”
With that, she turned and left. Mom continued to curse behind her until Ms. Rodriguez’s figure disappeared down the stairwell.
After closing the door, Mom trembled with rage. She walked to my bedroom door and kicked it hard. “Scarlett! Look at the trouble you’ve caused me! Now even the teacher is showing up at our door! Why don’t you just die!”
I floated beside her, looking at her distorted face, and suddenly remembered the drowning incident when I was four.
Noah and I fell into the river. I desperately clung to his hand, but the current was too strong, sweeping us apart.
When I was rescued, I saw Mom crying, holding Noah’s lifeless body. The first thing she said to me was, “Why aren’t you dead yet?”
Dad, Robert, emerged from his study, stopping Mom. “Stop yelling, the neighbors can hear you.”
His voice was low. “Scarlett hasn’t eaten in three days. Let’s go check on her.”
Mom shook off his hand. “Why check on her? She won’t die!”
But this time, Dad didn’t listen to her. He pushed open the door and entered the room. Mom hesitated, then followed him in.
Dad walked over, pulling back the blanket. Sunlight fell upon my body.
I could clearly see my pale face, my purplish lips, and the dried blood at the corner of my mouthâŠ
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I have face blindness.
My husband was a long-haul truck driver, always on the road.
But every time he came home, it was like he was a completely different person.
Sometimes, he was like a madman fresh out of lockup, pinning me against the wall the moment he walked in, his movements harsh, like he wanted to devour me whole.
Other times, heâd hold me with red-rimmed eyes, whispering how he didnât want to hurt me, yet his hands roamed, setting every nerve ending on fire.
And sometimes, heâd slowly, deliberately, untie his tie, toss me onto the bed, his voice cold and deep:
âLie still, legs open.â
I always thought it was just the immense stress from his job, pushing him to the brink of a breakdown.
Until the day their logistics company went public.
Three tall men, looking exactly alike, stood neatly in my living room.
They all claimed to be my husband.
My mind went completely blank.
These three faces, utterly indistinguishable to me, which one was my actual truck-driving husband?
Jax had been back from his trip for half a month, but tonight, he seemed like a different person entirely.
The motion-sensor light in the hall was out, leaving everything in darkness.
Iâd just fumbled for my keys when a scorching hand suddenly reached out from behind me and clamped over my mouth.
It wasn’t the familiar scent of tobacco. Instead, a faint, milky scent.
Before my body could instinctively go for a grappling move, the person behind me buried his face in the crook of my neck.
He sounded utterly distraught, as if heâd suffered some colossal injustice.
âChloe⊠youâre still the best to meâŠâ
I was stunned.
By the moonlight filtering through the window, I finally saw his face clearly.
Chiseled features, incredibly handsome. Yes, it was Jax, my husband of only half a month.
But those eyes⊠something was off!
Half a month ago, Iâd rushed into an arranged marriage with him to escape loan sharks.
Back then, he was all muscle, swearing like a sailor, and had kicked those paint-splashing goons flying, a cigarette still dangling from his lips.
On the day we got our marriage license, heâd snarled a warning at me:
âIâm on the road all year. If you canât handle the loneliness, get out now.â
Our wedding night was even worse, like a wild bull, all force and no tenderness.
But the man in front of me nowâŠ
So gentle. This wasn’t him at all…
âJaxâŠ?â
I called out, unsure.
He pulled me closer, his hot breath ghosting against my neck.
âChloe, they tried to steal my cargo, they tried to beat me⊠only youâre good to meâŠâ
Goosebumps erupted all over me.
Had this guy gone crazy on the road? Or had those truck hijackers beaten him senseless?
Where was the tough guy whoâd throw punches at the slightest provocation?
âYou⊠let go first. Youâre choking me.â
I tried to push him away, but this seemingly gentle guy had surprising strength.
He didn’t budge an inch.
Not only did he not let go, but he became bolder, one hand starting to sneak under my shirt.
âChloe, I want to take a shower. I feel dirty.â
His tone was polite.
But his actions were pure pervert!
My mind was a complete mess.
Staring at the identical face, and these drastically different eyes.
For the first time, I had a terrifying suspicion:
What kind of man had I actually married?
Before I could even process it, he suddenly scooped me up and strode towards the bathroom.
âChloe, help me washâŠâ
âJax, you maniac! Put me down!â
But his movements only grew more urgent.
That night, I felt like every ounce of my strength was drained.
That intense sensation almost drove me to the brink of madness.
The next morning, sure enough, the spot beside me in bed was cold.
Only a crumpled note remained on the pillow, the handwriting scrawled with a little crying face drawn on it:
âChloe, I had to leave urgently. Donât miss me.â
I angrily crumpled the note.
Miss him? No way!
Wore me out all night, then just ghosted me?
I thought that was the end of it, just my husband having a temporary breakdown from stress on the road.
But over the next month, Jax simply vanished.
Until that rainy night.
I worked overtime until midnight, returning home soaked to the bone.
I pushed open the door, and the lights were off, but someone was sitting inside.
The figure was tall and straight, sitting on that creaky folding chair, somehow radiating the aura of a king on his throne.
My heart lifted, not yet noticing anything wrong, I dropped my bag and rushed towards him.
âHusband! Where have you been? You never answered my calls!â
Normally, the brute wouldâve pulled me into a fierce embrace and started kissing me senseless, or the gentle one would have rushed to hug me.
But this man didnât move.
He didnât even lift an eyelid.
He held an unlit cigarette in his hand, and by the flash of lightning outside the window, I saw a pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.
Glasses?
When did Jax get nearsighted?
He slowly raised his gaze, those eyes deep as stagnant pools, devoid of any emotion.
That bone-chilling stare instantly froze all my enthusiasm into ice shards.
I stood rooted to the spot, my outstretched hand awkwardly suspended in mid-air.
âHus⊠band?â
I called out, uncertainly.
The face, the body, it was definitely him.
But the way he looked at me was like I was an ant, or⊠a cheap commodity.
He finally moved.
Slowly, he put the cigarette on the table and stood up.
That oppressive aura washed over me, a hundred times stronger than the tough guy, the undeniable presence of a superior.
He advanced, step by step, until he had me cornered against the wall, with nowhere to retreat.
His long fingers hooked under my chin, the pressure neither light nor heavy, but laced with an undeniable command.
âFor the past month, youâve been living in this pigsty?â
His voice was low and magnetic, yet cold enough to drop ice shards.
I was bewildered.
Pigsty?
Isn’t this the home we’d lived in for months? He even said it was cozy when we got married!
âJax, what the hell is wrong with you? If you hate it so much, donât come back!â
I exploded, swatting his hand away.
He didnât get angry. Instead, a mocking smirk played on his lips.
âJax?â
He repeated the name softly, his tone playful.
âFine, then Iâll be Jax.â
He slowly unbuttoned his shirt collar, his movements as elegant as if he were unwrapping a work of art.
Then he grabbed my wrist and tossed me onto that flimsy bed.
His tone was as detached as if he were discussing business, devoid of any emotion:
âSince weâre married, itâs time to fulfill your duties. Lie still, legs open.â
That night, it felt like I was being punished.
This Jax with glasses was utterly inhuman.
He wasnât loud or aggressive, barely even spoke.
But he was like a precisely calibrated machine, every action cold, precise, and straight to the point.
No foreplay, no tenderness, just pure conquest and plunder.
No matter how much I cried or begged, his face remained expressionless.
Only at the very end, would his brow furrow slightly.
Afterward, he got up and dressed, his movements as elegant as if he’d just left a formal dinner.
He pulled a black card from his wallet and tossed it onto the bedside table.
âThe password is your birthday. Find somewhere else to live; this place isnât worthy of you.â
Then, without another glance, he walked out.
Leaving me alone, staring at the black card, feeling utterly cold.
What was happening?
My hand trembled as I picked up the card, tears streaming down my face.
I remembered half a year ago.
My dad had just passed away, and loan sharks were harassing me daily.
When the matchmaker introduced me to Jax, she said he was a long-haul trucker, poor but honest.
On our first date, he treated me to noodles at a street food stall.
When those loan sharks came to bother me, he didn’t hesitate, grabbing a stool and smashing it into them.
It was a brutal fight, and in the end, with blood streaming from his forehead, he grinned at me:
âDonât be scared, Chloe. From now on, Iâll protect you.â
On our wedding day, he gave me all his savings â ten thousand dollars â to pay off my debts.
âIâm not much, just this. But as long as I have food, you wonât starve.â
Back then, he was rough, he was poor, but he gave me a home, a profound sense of security.
But now?
The black card in my hand felt heavy. They said it could buy an entire street.
Yet, the Jax who would fight for me, who would clumsily try to cheer me up, seemed gone.
The man he was now, was a stranger, and it terrified me.
I didnât dare touch the card, locking it deep in my drawer.
I feared it was money heâd risked his life for. Even more, I feared that by using it, I would truly lose my tough guy husband forever.
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We were the four girls the Sterling family took in.
My foster mother, Mrs. Sterling, had one goal: to groom the most exceptional of us to marry her son, Damian Sterling.
The other threeâLily, Sarah, and Mayaâthey learned flower arranging, dance, and how to charm Damian.
Me? I learned finance, management, and how to bleed his familyâs company dry.
Damian cornered me against a wall, a smirk playing on his lips, smug and sure of himself.
“Playing your little seduction games? I despise ambitious women.”
He thought I wanted him.
He had no idea I’d seen too many women who latched onto men, only to end up as discarded, fading roses.
What I wanted was never his love.
It was the power to utterly break free from his grasp.
Later, he truly fell for me:
“You win. I only want you. Stop working so hard, just be my Mrs. Sterling.”
I laughed, slapping my resignation letter onto his chest.
“Mr. Sterling, you think I was after the title of your wife?”
“No. I was after *your* position.”
Mrs. Sterling summoned the four of us to the main residence for afternoon tea, claiming she had an important announcement.
In the enormous living room, the crystal chandelier sparkled, and the air was thick with the cloying sweetness of expensive diffusers. Lily, Sarah, Maya, and I sat side-by-side on the plush velvet sofa, like a line of products waiting to be appraised.
Our postures were trained through countless repetitions: backs perfectly straight, smiles flawlessly calibrated.
Mrs. Sterlingâs well-maintained face wore a gentle smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Children, you’ve all been with the Sterling family for over a decade now. Each of you has grown into such beautiful young women; Iâm truly delighted.”
Her gaze swept slowly across our faces, as if she were inspecting her prized collection.
“Damian is of marrying age now, and Iâve watched all of you grow up, so I know you well.”
“Iâve decided that one of you four will be chosen to be his wife.”
The moment her words fell, the breathing of the three girls beside me quickened.
Lily was the least able to hide her feelings; her cheeks instantly flushed crimson, her eyes practically overflowing with anticipation, hands clutching tightly at the hem of her skirt.
Sarah bowed her head, twisting her fingers into the fabric of her dress, appearing calm but with knuckles turning white.
Maya, however, subtly straightened her back, striking her most poised and impeccable pose.
As if the title of Mrs. Sterling was already hers for the taking.
They all wanted to be Mrs. Sterling.
Only I remained, picking up my coffee cup, gently blowing away the wisps of steam. The dark surface reflected my utterly calm face.
I just wanted to escape this gilded cage.
After dinner, we returned to the rooms specifically prepared for us. The moment we stepped inside, the stifling tension in the room finally burst.
Lily was the first to break the silence, her face alight with giddy excitement, twirling around in place.
“Iâm going to marry Damian! Did you hear that? Mrs. Sterling herself said so!”
Sarah was mixing colors at her easel, but at Lily’s words, she calmly poured cold water on her enthusiasm.
“All four of us want to marry him. But the Sterlings will only choose the most outstanding.”
Lily huffed indignantly, puffing out her chest, and marched over to Sarah.
“Damian has feelings for me! He treats me the most specially!”
She pulled a small silver whistle from around her neck, dangling it before us like a precious treasure.
“Last year, for my birthday, Damian took me to the stables, and this was his gift. He said he polished this whistle himself, that it’s one-of-a-kind.”
Her voice was full of sweet memories.
“He also said that if I ever blow it, no matter where he is, he’ll come to me instantly. He even said my smile was like the first flower to bloom in spring.”
We all stared at the whistle, glinting with a cheap, deceptive gleam under the lamp.
Damian had said similar things to every one of us.
Those sweet nothings were nothing but his easy manipulation, a low-cost, high-reward hunting tool.
Just last month, he’d told Sarah her paintings held the vastness of stars and oceans, a lonely genius no one else could comprehend.
Then he’d turned around and told Maya her coffee had a calming, almost magical quality that perfectly mirrored her serene nature.
But Lily believed him.
She clung to that whistle as proof of her unique status, convinced she was the most special person in Damian’s heart.
Maya scoffed, said nothing, and turned to enter the bathroom, her retreating back radiating disdain.
I looked at Lily’s face, utterly lost in her fantasies, and couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth.
Some people just have to learn the hard way. There’s no talking sense into them until they get burned.
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Online, I had this hot VP boyfriend, six foot three, and I’d get daily ab pics from him to “approve.”
So when he suggested we meet up in person, I broke up with him, no hesitation.
Because only I knew the truth: my online boyfriend was actually my boss.
But just as I swore to keep my identity a secret, I turned around and found myself in his arms.
“Please, don’t break up with me?” he pleaded.
My boss has been in a foul mood lately.
Everyone felt it, and the office turned into a graveyard of productivity, with even fewer people secretly playing games.
Ryan, my boss, was working insane overtime, and no one dared to leave before him. So, our workdays stretched to eleven, sometimes midnight. I was constantly exhausted, sporting dark circles, and my skin had even started breaking out.
Honestly, I was probably the only one in the entire company who knew why he was so volatile, but I couldn’t spill the beans.
Because, well, my boss had just gone through a breakup.
And, unfortunately, I was the “ex.â
He just didn’t know it yet.
It all started when my online boyfriend of two years wanted to meet.
We’d met on some random social app. He’d posted a “help me” thread, titled, “Why Can’t I Find a Date?”
I clicked on it. The post read: “Male, 6’3″, 165 lbs, 25 years old. Harvard grad, Management and Engineering. Currently a VP at a publicly traded company, seven-figure salary, owns a car and a house, celebrity good looks. Still single. Just wondering, what’s my problem?”
The comments section was brutal.
“Troll post, confirmed.”
“Dude’s living in a fantasy, right? 25, VP at a major company? C’mon, at least make your lies believable.”
Just messing around, I commented, “Probably your looks. Post a pic.”
Then I exited the thread.
A little while later, the poster messaged me privately.
“Hey, can I send it privately?”
Me: “???”
I was confused, but hey, I live for drama.
“Sure.”
Then, a photo popped up.
I choked on my coffee, spraying it all over my desk.
Are you kidding me? Six foot three? I’d believe five foot seven!
It was a mirror selfie, a third of his face blocked. The weird angle made his head look huge and his body tiny. He wore dorky, black-rimmed glasses, making him look kinda frumpy and, well, short for someone that tall.
But I couldn’t deny the face itself. Even half-covered, that jawline, that nose, those eyes â they all screamed one thing:
“I’M HOT.”
He just looked⊠vaguely familiar.
My inner monologue was screaming, “How can someone this good-looking not even know it?!” But being the helpful soul I am, after zooming in and out like crazy three or four times, I fired off a whole list of suggestions: “You need to learn how to dress and pose for photos! Change the glasses â get rimless ones, or better yet, contacts. Don’t take photos from that angle! Tilt the phone slightly, so the charging port is closer to you. Change your pants, get something more fitted, black maybe…”
He replied, “Thank you so much.”
After that, I didn’t pay much attention. But the next day, the guy sent me his “homework assignment” based on my advice. I gave him some more pointers, and then he sent another the third day, then the fourth, then the fifth.
Just as I was starting to get annoyed, he proactively asked to add me on SnapChat and offered to pay me for my help.
Thinking, “only a fool turns down free money,” I gave him my personal account. And then, a familiar profile picture popped up, asking to be my friend.
Isn’t that the boss?!
My hand twitched, and I accidentally hit “accept.” My heart sank instantly, and I quickly changed my settings to “chat only.”
My brain raced, wondering if I’d accidentally linked my personal SnapChat to anything at work. He was “typing…” for what felt like ages, then finally sent: “Thank you so much for all your guidance and help these past few days. Here’s a small token of my appreciation.”
Then, a transfer of $7,000 appeared, with the note “voluntary gift.”
I froze.
I screenshotted it, double-checked the SnapChat ID. No doubt. It was the hot guy from online, and it was definitely my boss.
After silently screaming “holy cow” for a solid minute, I shamelessly accepted the money.
Whatever. It was my personal account; Ryan had no idea it was me.
From then on, I kept helping him improve. He was a quick learner, soon mastering how to show off his natural good looks.
But just as I was about to consider my mission accomplished, the dummy confessed his feelings for me.
First, there was this ridiculously long message, like a mini-essay I hadn’t written since high school. I skipped straight to the end: “Actually, there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time. I like you.”
Me: “…”
My silence was deafening.
Me: “Oh, thanks so much!”
Him: “Huh???”
Then: “I really like you!”
Me: “I really appreciate it!”
Him: “No, I’m serious.”
Me: “Yeah, thanks a lot.”
My head was throbbing.
Is this guy for real?
He seemed to pause for a moment, then asked, “No matter what, can you give me a chance to pursue you?”
I didn’t reply.
That night, I actually had trouble sleeping.
The next day, the dummy started sending me daily messages: “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” “Good night,” and things like, “I’m going to work,” “I’m heading out,” “I’ve arrived,” “I’m starting work now,” and so on.
Yep, that’s how he tried to win me over.
I’d occasionally give him a half-hearted reply, and he’d be over the moon.
Things took a turn a month later.
I was happily scrolling through hot guys online, and, on impulse, I tried to share a video with my best friend. But my hand slipped, and I sent it to him instead.
Me: “Ugh, he’s so hot. I’m obsessed.”
Me: “video”
Him: “???”
By the time I saw the messages, it was too late to unsend. Even though it’s natural to appreciate beauty, I still felt a little bit guilty.
Just then, he sent a message: “You like this kind of thing?”
Then, a video.
It must have been filmed at the gym. Not exaggerated muscle definition, but well-proportioned, with beautiful V-cut abs winding down, disappearing into his athletic shorts. As for above…
Yeah, definitely easy on the eyes!
The guy in the video seemed shy; his face was flushed red by the end.
My heart fluttered.
Me: “Got more? Send ’em over!”
Then he shyly sent a few more videos.
I admit, I was completely swayed by his good looks.
Who knew my boss, Mr. Straight-Laced, was so… well, that in private?
How should I put it?
It was unexpectedly thrilling.
As I was enjoying the view, he suddenly sent another message.
“If you agree to be my girlfriend, I’ll record one for you every day. You can watch as much as you want.”
Look, everyone’s got their vices. For me, it’s pretty boys.
The first three â money, power, fame â meant nothing to me. So, the last one was incredibly tempting.
Me: “…Well… I guess that wouldn’t be so bad.”
It was just an online relationship, after all.
Of course, there were conditions.
No going public, no matching profile pics, no video calls, and definitely no meeting in person.
He wasn’t thrilled, but he agreed.
And so, we dated for two years.
As he got better at dressing and styling, I got better at enjoying the benefits. He could pull off any look.
Just as I thought this blissful routine would continue forever, the dummy suggested we meet.
Me: “Didn’t we agree not to meet? Just online dating, nothing real-life.”
He sounded genuinely hurt: “I know, I’m sorry. But I really want to see you.”
I knew what he was getting at.
A couple of days before, I’d gone to my college reunion, and afterward, a former classmate confessed his feelings. I rejected him, and then he started sending me really creepy and gross messages.
So, I blasted him on my Ins story.
Then blocked and deleted him.
Since we were “dating,” my dummy of a boyfriend would have seen it.
He clearly wanted to meet up and publicly stake his claim.
I knew exactly why I couldn’t meet him, so the answer was an obvious no.
After a week of his pestering, I got annoyed and broke up with him.
He was totally terrified, deflated like a balloon.
My phone showed his call for the nth time. I sighed, flipping it facedown on the desk.
Just then, my direct supervisor, Victoria, called my name.
“Cassie, can you take this proposal to Ryan?”
It was an open secret in the office that Victoria had a crush on Ryan.
Normally, she’d jump at any chance to interact with him. But lately, with his foul mood, she’d tried to “comfort” him last time and gotten a humiliating dressing-down. So she wasn’t bothering with that anymore.
I winced, forcing a tight smile: “Victoria, that’s a bit of a bypass, isn’t it? Going over my direct manager’s head isn’t ideal.”
Ryan was my online boyfriend. While I had his work contact, I’d never actually interacted with him professionally. Plus, this proposal had been dragging on forever, and Ryan was never happy with it. Even on a good day, you’d get ripped apart for it, let alone now. This was clearly Victoria sending me in to take the fall.
Victoria rolled her eyes: “Just do it, Cassie. Less talk, more action.”
âŠFine.
Even though I’d practically seen everything there was to see of him online, I was still a total chicken about meeting him in real life.
Especially at work, where he was notoriously strict, practically a tyrant.
âAnd totally sharp-tongued.
I hesitated for a moment, then pulled out my phone.
After I’d broken up with him that day, the dummy had been apologizing non-stop, clearly freaking out. But I hadn’t replied to any of it.
I’d just steeled myself to break up with him and hadn’t really checked my phone. Partly because I was scared I’d cave, and partly to teach him a lesson.
Meeting in person was out of the question, but breaking up felt right.
After thinking it over, I sent a message.
“We don’t have to break up, but can you be good? I really don’t like people who don’t keep their promises.”
He replied instantly: “Baby, you finally answered me! I know I messed up, I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll never do it again.”
Followed by a crying puppy emoji.
I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
The person inside seemed to jump, then cleared their throat. “Come in.”
The moment I stepped in, my eyes were drawn to Ryan’s slightly red nose.
Had he been crying?
Noticing my gaze, he seemed a little embarrassed and tapped his desk. “Proposal? Just put it here. You can go back now.”
His temper was noticeably better.
Otherwise, he would have totally chewed me out for skipping ranks.
A colleague had been fired before for going over their manager’s head.
While that colleague also had issues with poor work performance and disobeying assignments, and they did receive severance pay, going over someone’s head is still a huge workplace no-no.
But that proposal was still no good; it got sent back. Victoria then dumped it back on my desk.
No choice. I had to work overtime to fix it.
But, typical, Ryan was in a good mood today and left on time, and since it was Friday, the other colleagues who’d been suffering through endless overtime also bolted early. Soon, it was just me and the receptionist left in the office.
But I had no idea how long this proposal would take, so I told the receptionist I’d lock up and turn off the lights, and she left.
After who knows how long, I heard the facial recognition scanner at the door activate. I froze, a pang of fear in my chest.
I checked the time. It was already ten at night. Who could it be at this hour?
All those office horror movies started playing in my head. I was telling myself ghosts aren’t real, while subconsciously holding my breath, too tense to move.
A familiar figure approached. When I clearly saw his face, I breathed a sigh of relief.
It was Ryan.
“Why are you still here alone? Aren’t you going home?”
Ryan sounded surprised that I was still working overtime. I silently gritted my teeth: Whose fault do you think it is?!
“This proposal is pretty urgent. I’m worried it won’t be viable by tomorrow, so I thought I’d stay late tonight to perfect it.”
“Oh, that proposal.”
Ryan paused, then actually walked straight towards my desk. “Let me explain it to you in more detail. That way, it’ll be easier to revise.”
My heart leapedâbecause we’d made up, I had to reply to his messages, and I hated constantly checking my phone, so I’d already switched my computer to my personal account.
What now?
Ryan walked closer. “Open it up, let me see.”
My brain spun, and my fingers flew across the keyboard.
Just as I thought I’d got it, Ryan said, “Scoot over, I…”
“Wait!”
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I had terminal cancer, but my wife, Clara Hayes, gave my treatment opportunity to Alex Stone, who only had early-stage cancer.
When I signed over my company to Alex, my parents smiled with satisfaction;
When I signed Clara’s divorce papers, she sighed, saying I was so mature;
When I asked my daughter, Lily, to call Alex “Daddy,” she happily did;
Even when I gave Alex all my properties and assets, they didn’t sense anything was wrong.
Three days before I died, I finally became the son and husband my family always wanted.
Would they ever remember me after I was gone?
Under the doctor’s pitying gaze, I swallowed the painkiller.
Only three days remained until my death.
After taking the medicine, I went to Alex’s hospital room.
Inside, Dad was peeling an orange for Alex, while Mom chatted happily with him.
When they saw me enter, their smiles instantly froze and became distant.
“Oh, what now? Can’t keep up the sick act, so you’re back to bothering Alex, are you? Liam, let me tell you, with us here, you can forget about trying to mess with him!” Dad looked at me, his voice icy.
“Our family has always prided ourselves on raising our kids right. I don’t know where you picked up such bad habits, being so jealous of Alex and even snatching his chemotherapy chance,”
“If only I’d known, I shouldn’t have given birth to you!” Mom pointed at me, her voice laced with accusation.
In a corner where my parents couldn’t see, Alex smirked, his eyes full of provocation.
I lowered my gaze. I’d heard these words from my parents countless times before.
Usually, I’d argue back, expose Alex’s deception in front of them,
Even though my parents never believed a single word I said.
But now, I was tired. I just didn’t want to fight anymore.
“Anyway, you came at a good time. I have something to discuss with you,” Dad said then.
I smiled faintly. “Dad, I also have something to tell you.”
“Alex, he wants my shop businesses and my company, doesn’t he? I’ve thought about it. I’ll give them all to him!”
Dad froze for a moment, and Mom looked at me with some surprise.
“How did you know I was going to talk to you about this today? You agreed?”
I gave a slight twitch of my lips. It wasn’t surprising they were shocked and double-checking.
Alex had wanted my shops and company for a long time.
My parents had said every good and bad thing imaginable to make me hand over everything I’d worked so hard for to Alex. But I’d always refused.
Now, though, I was a dying man. These things were meaningless.
Mom saw my serious expression and finally smiled, a look of relief on her face. She stepped forward and gently touched my head.
“You’ve finally come to your senses!”
“Alex was always more excellent than you in school, and even though he’s sick now, he’s much better at managing finances than you are.”
“We’ll feel much better if you let him manage your shops and company.”
I barely managed a smile, then handed the transfer agreement to Alex.
After my parents saw Alex sign it, they excitedly held my hand, repeatedly calling me their “good boy.”
A faint irony bloomed in my heart.
How laughable. Only when I yielded to Alex would Mom show me a smile.
But I was also curious.
If Mom ever discovered Alex’s true colors, and realized I was dead,
Would she and Dad feel any regret?
That evening, I returned home.
My wife, Clara, and my daughter, Lily, were in the kitchen, cooking.
Perhaps because of my late-stage cancer, my movements were softer, and the mother and daughter were laughing, seemingly oblivious to my arrival.
Clara, serving a dish, turned and saw me. Her smile froze for a split second before she recomposed herself.
“Liam, when did you get back? You’re so quiet.”
I silently watched the dish in Clara’s handâit was Alex’s favorite.
Judging by the presentation, it looked like it came from a professional chef.
It was quite ironic. I was dying,
And only now did I discover that Clara, whom I’d spent five years with, could cook.
She used to always complain about my cooking, and under Clara’s influence, Lily gradually started to dislike it too.
I’d slaved away for this family, only to earn not a shred of respect.
In the past, I might have lost control, utterly breaking down.
But now, I calmly walked past them, sat on the sofa, and organized the things in my bag.
Clara saw my silence and paused, then placed the dish on the table and walked over to me.
“Liam, today, there’s something I want to discuss with you.”
Clara touched her nose, a slight awkwardness in her gesture, then hesitated before speaking:
“It’s about your brother, Alex.”
My heart sank, a terrible thought suddenly surfacing.
The next second, Clara’s words froze me in place:
“Alex has been very depressed since his chemotherapy. So Mom and Dad want me to marry Alex, hoping this happy event will help him recover.”
My ears buzzed loudly, the sound overwhelming everything. It took a long time before I found my voice.
“So, you agreed?”
Clara sighed.
“Liam, even though Alex isn’t your biological brother, he’s still family since Mom and Dad adopted him.”
“And it’s just to help him get back on his feet. As soon as Alex is discharged, I’ll still be your wife, and Lily’s mom.”
Before I could speak, Lily chimed in:
“That’s right, Daddy! Alex has been feeling really down lately, you should try to understand him!”
I silently watched the mother and daughter in front of me.
This was the woman I had loved for so many years.
This was the child I had painstakingly raised.
I asked myself if I had ever made a mistake; I truly believed I had been a good son, husband, and father. My conscience was clear.
Yet, in the end, I received their betrayal.
But it didn’t matter now. If Alex wanted it, I would give him everything.
I didn’t want any of it anymore.
I looked up at Clara. “Fine, I agree!”
A flicker of surprise crossed Clara’s eyes. “Really?”
With that, she quickly pulled a divorce agreement from a drawer and placed it on the table.
I gave a slight, bitter smile.
Clara, Clara. Your eagerness is so transparent, you’re not even trying to hide it, are you?
I picked up the pen and quickly signed.
After I signed, Clara’s face was filled with utter satisfaction, her expression solemn and seemingly affectionate.
“Liam, we’ll remarry once Alex is discharged. Don’t worry, I’ll never betray you!”
Clara finished speaking and signed the divorce agreement herself. After signing,
She looked at me and sighed, “Liam, you’ve become so much more mature than before. I know I’ve had my faults too, I was wrong.”
“Once Alex is well, I promise I’ll never let you worry about anything again!”
“That’s right, Daddy!” Lily, trying to sound like a little adult, also spoke up.
“Daddy is so good to Alex, I’m proud of you!”
Watching them, a wave of despair washed over me.
Before this, I had held onto a last shred of hope for Clara and Lily.
And now…
It’s over. I had no expectations left, except for death.
I stood up, intending to walk past them and rest in my room.
A powerful wave of dizziness hit me, and I couldn’t help but collapse.
In that last flickering second before my world went black, I thought I saw Clara’s face, etched with a fleeting panic.
I was jolted awake by a sudden chill.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself still lying on the floor.
Clara and Lily were both looking at me, their faces etched with disappointment.
“Mom, I told you! Daddy’s just faking it again!” Lily said.
“Daddy, can you stop being so childish? You’re really delaying us from going to see Alex at the hospital!”
Faking it?
Then Clara spoke, her voice filled with disappointment:
“Liam, can you please stop this nonsense?”
“Didn’t I tell you? Even though we’re divorced, you’re still the one I love. You really don’t need to use childish tricks like faking a faint to test me!”
After hearing Clara’s words, I finally understood.
The painkiller I took, it completely blocked out all symptoms for three days.
During that time, I’d look and feel like a perfectly normal person, my complexion no different from anyone else’s.
But the side effects were brutal: after those three days, my organs would fail, and I’d die.
Turns out, the medication was doing its job a little too well.
I forced myself to stand. “It’s probably just low blood sugar, it’s nothing. I’ll come to the hospital with you.”
“There are still some transfer documents that need Alex to sign.”
Clara nodded. There wasn’t a hint of surprise on her face, so my parents must have told her beforehand.
At the hospital, Alex was in his room, watching TV.
“Liam, you’re here!” Alex still looked pale,
But his spirits were clearly much higher. I didn’t miss the smugness, the outright arrogance, glittering in his eyes.
“Liam, thank you for trusting me and letting me manage your businesses. Don’t worry, I won’t let you down!”
“That’s right, Liam! With your shops and company in Alex’s hands, you can just relax at home every day and collect dividends. How wonderful is that!” Mom said, smiling.
I took out the remaining documents from my bag. “In that case, I’ll let him manage all my other assets too.”
“That way, I won’t have to worry about anything anymore.”
Everyone in the room froze.
“Liam, are you serious? You’re giving Alex all your assets?”
Clara grabbed my arm, her eyes wide with surprise.
This time, I was the one confused.
They used to always side with Alex, giving him whatever he wanted.
If I refused, they would scold me endlessly.
But now that I was giving Alex everything,
They were confused?
Dad was the first to snap back, his eyes beaming with satisfaction. “Our son has finally come to his senses! Our affection for him wasn’t wasted!”
“Liam, it’s a good thing you’ve finally accepted your brother!”
“From now on, you two live good lives together, and we’ll be at peace, even in our old age!”
At peace?
Mom and Dad, you’ve been fooled by Alex’s fake kindness for too many years.
Do you really believe Alex will manage everything of mine properly?
My head spun again, and my nose felt itchy. I touched it and found my fingers slick with blood.
“Liam, why are you bleeding from the nose? The weather hasn’t been dry lately, has it?” Mom asked then.
My hand, wiping my nose, paused. I couldn’t hold back anymore and looked at them, speaking:
“Dad, Mom, if I really die of illness one day, will you regret it?”
But Mom’s expression didn’t even flicker. She just smiled and glanced at me.
“Your face is so flushed, how could you be that sick? Stop talking such nonsense, it’s bad luck!”
“Exactly! Alex is different. Once he recovers, we must make sure to help him recuperate properly!”
Dad said, looking at Alex with concern.
“I think so too!” Lily chimed in quickly. “Daddy is quite healthy, Godfather Alex is the one we should worry about the most!”
The last shred of hope in my heart vanished.
I had nothing left to hope for…
I looked down at Lily and smiled.
“Lily, haven’t you always wanted Godfather Alex to be your real daddy?”
“I’ve agreed. Alex is your daddy now. Won’t you call him Daddy?”
Lily’s eyes lit up with surprise. “Really?!”
I smiled faintly.
“Once you call him Daddy, you can always eat the food he makes and he can always spend time with you!”
“Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Aren’t you happy?”
Lily jumped up excitedly. “Yay! Daddy is the best in the world! Thank you, Daddy!”
With that, Lily pulled her hand from mine and hugged Alex. My parents and Clara watched the scene with satisfied smiles.
I turned to leave, taking one last look at them.
My parents were laughing and playing with Lily alongside Alex, and Clara watched with a soft smile.
No one noticed me.
I closed the hospital room door and left the hospital.
Only one day remained until my death. I had nowhere to go.
My life had been busy and rushed, I’d never truly let go and enjoyed myself.
I booked a ticket to a coastal city, went to see the sea at night, and wanted to climb a mountain.
But I couldn’t hold on anymore. Just before I passed out, I dialed a number I hadn’t called in almost five years.
Then, my vision went black, and I lost consciousness.
Alex was in his hospital bed, watching TV, when the door suddenly burst open.
He looked up and saw a man enter.
The man was Alex’s biological father, Frank Wallace.
“What do you want?” A flicker of disgust, mixed with a hint of fear, crossed Alex’s eyes.
Frank sneered. “What, if I hadn’t thrown you in that orphanage back then, would you have ever met such rich people?”
“I’m broke. Transfer me money. I need a hundred grand!”
Alex shot up in bed, staring at Frank. “Why should I? Have you supported me for a single day since I was born?!”
Frank made himself comfortable on the sofa in the room.
“Cut the crap, Alex. I know all about your dirty little secrets, every single one of them.”
“You transfer the money quietly, and we won’t have to make a scene. Otherwise, you know what I’m capable of!”
Alex clenched his fist tightly, then slowly released it after a moment.
“Fine. Give me some time. I need to be discharged to earn money.”
Frank scoffed. “You don’t have the fate to be rich, but you got a rich man’s disease. Early-stage cancer, that’s it? What a waste of money!”
“I’m giving you two days. If I don’t see the money by then, I’m going straight to the Davis family!”
Frank stood up, kicked the hospital room door open, and left.
Alex violently smashed the glass cup on the nightstand, sending shards flying. He gasped for breath, his eyes filled with burning hatred.
Why…
Why did everyone else get to have such happy lives? Why was he only destined to be thrown into an orphanage by a scumbag father like that?
Why did he have to live such a despised existence?
He had finally managed to usurp Liam’s place in the Davis family, to push Liam out.
He absolutely refused to go back to those days of having no security!
Alex got out of bed.
After tricking Liam into giving him the chemotherapy chance, his body was recovering faster each day.
He’d be discharged soon.
But right now, he just wanted to quickly sell all the assets, shop businesses, and the company he’d snatched from Liam.
Then, he’d transfer all the money in batches overseas and use the excuse of moving abroad.
That way, his scumbag father would never find him.
Even the gullible Davis family wouldn’t find him.
Yes, he had to handle this as quickly as possible!
He told the nurse at the station that he was going out for a walk to clear his head. Downstairs, he hailed a taxi and went to the bank.
Alex arrived at the bank, handed his card to the teller, his heart trembling with excitement.
Soon, Liam’s money would be his, and he would finally be free.
But then, the teller looked up, giving him a strange glance.
“Sir, the name and identity associated with this card do not match your identity.”
“Sir, did you pick up the wrong card?”
Alex froze.
“How could that be? My family already transferred ownership of this card to me when we did the paperwork!”
“Could you have made a mistake?”
The teller shook her head. “Sir, the owner of this card is still Mr. Liam. Furthermore, this card has an asset protection freeze applied to it by our bank!”
Alex was stunned. Asset protection freeze?
How was that possible? How could this be? He had watched Liam sign the transfer agreement!
He had checked that transfer agreement again and again before signing to confirm. Had Liam pulled some trick afterward?
Right, and the shops and the company!
Alex left the bank and called a friend he knew.
He sat anxiously on a bench outside the bank. A few minutes later, his friend called him back.
“Alex, the shops and company you’re talking about, their ownership belongs to someone named Liam.”
“Two days ago, this Liam had his lawyer, representing him fully, apply for an ownership protection order!”
Boom!
A deafening explosion echoed in Alex’s mind.
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My husband told me to lick whipped cream off another manâs thigh because his assistant refused.
She picked up a bottle and pressed it to her neck.
âDamon, I wonât do it. Make her go.â
Damon looked at me. His voice did not pause.
âYou do it. Iâll make it up to you later.â
This was the ninety-seventh time he put her before me.
I did not refuse.
I owed him a life debt.
One last step, and it would be paid.
After that, we will be done.
“Well, well, looks like the supermodel agreed to lick it after all? Damon sure knows how to handle women!”
“What if she doesn’t lick the cream? Are they really going to make Amber do it? She’s Damon’s true love!”
The mocking laughter around me was deafening, and I felt utterly humiliated standing there.
Amidst this nauseating display of arrogance, Damon crouched in front of Amber, carefully placing a band-aid on her neck. Then he turned to me with cold eyes:
“Elena, don’t try anything clever. Amber’s waiting for you to finish so we can continue the game.”
Amber, Amber… He only cared about Amber, never once asking if I was willing.
He had completely forgotten that I was his wife.
He had also forgotten that just a few days ago, I had miscarried because of her, and I was barely able to stand here today.
Seeing me hesitate, someone suddenly pushed me:
“What are you standing there for? Go lick it! Don’t tell me you’re backing out now?”
I stumbled but managed to steady myself. When I looked at Damon again, his eyes were completely focused on Amber.
“96 times. This is the ninety-sixth time,” I counted silently in my head as I stiffly walked towards the man with whipped cream on his leg, a notorious playboy in our circle.
Just as I bent down to kneel, the playboy suddenly grabbed my chin.
He looked at Amber and said, “Miss Amber, this isn’t right. She lost to me three times. Licking once isn’t enough.”
“How about we play ‘stuff the egg’? If you can persuade her to do it, I’ll forget about the punishment.”
Stuff the egg? What’s that?!
An unnamed fear suddenly surged through me, and I quickly looked towards Damon.
But in the next second, Amber was already pleading with Damon, clinging to his arm and pouting:
“Damon, it’s just a dare. Can’t you let your sister-in-law agree just this once?”
Seeing Amber’s small body trembling, Damon was left with nothing but pity. He looked at me intently:
“Elena, you were willing to lick the cream. So you wouldn’t mind taking on another dare for Amber, right?”
“Yay! Thank you, Damon!” Amber jumped up happily, her face full of smugness.
Watching Damon gently pat Amber’s head with a doting expression, I couldn’t help but laugh at that moment. My dignity had been trampled on, and I had become nothing more than a toy for them to torment and play with.
Damon, how could you be so heartless? How could you still want me to participate in some kind of performance art and be humiliated for her sake?
Oh, right, I almost forgot. Amber was his unattainable moon.
He had pursued her for years without success, and then they were separated by their families. Amber had left the country overnight.
Now that he finally had her, of course he would pamper and indulge her every whim.
How could I possibly compete?
Suppressing the bitterness in my heart, I spoke stiffly:
“Can that count as one forgiveness voucher?”
Forgiveness voucher? The crowd laughed at my strange request, but Damon put down the hand that had been pampering Amber and suddenly looked at me.
He knew what I was talking about.
After a moment, he nodded:
“It counts!”
I smiled bitterly:
“Alright, I agree.”
Eight years ago, when I had just entered the modeling world, I was targeted by a big boss and confined on an island.
Along with other girls, I became a tool for men to use at their business gatherings.
I was lucky. Damon was the first man I encountered, and he fell in love with me at first sight.
For my sake, he took over those men’s businesses, sent them to prison, and saved my life.
Later, I found out that it was because my features strongly resembled Amber’s.
On the night I was rescued, I asked him how I could repay this debt of gratitude.
His eyes were sincere: “Then marry me.”
I pinched him: “I’m serious.”
His breathing became ragged as he entangled with me and said:
“Then… give me 99 forgiveness vouchers.”
“Forgiveness vouchers?” I curiously clung to his body, not understanding.
At that moment, he smiled:
“Silly girl, if – and I’m just saying if – if one day I hurt you 99 times, I’ll use these vouchers to make you forgive me 99 times. Once the vouchers are used up, this debt will be settled.”
For the next five years, he poured resources into making me a supermodel and loved me like a precious jewel.
Until two months ago, when Amber returned to the country. Everything changed.
Now it was the 97th time. Just two more times, and my debt would be repaid. We would have no more connection.
Seeing Damon agree, the playboy took me into his private room, a dimly lit chamber covered in silk.
The table was full of hard-boiled eggs, and on the floor lay two or three women with disheveled clothes, a rotten smell emanating from beneath them.
A chill ran down my spine as I realized with horror what Amber meant by “stuffing eggs” – they were going to insert them into my private parts.
Damon, who had followed us in, suddenly narrowed his eyes and turned to ask Amber:
“Wasn’t this supposed to be about eating eggs? What’s going on here?”
But Amber ignored him and pushed me forward.
“Mr. Seven, Miss Elena used to be a dancer. I’m sure her flexibility will satisfy you.”
“Don’t you want to try it yourself? Push your limits?”
As Amber finished speaking, I was already trembling in terror. I immediately looked to Damon for help.
At least I was still his wife. He had loved me once. Although he had tormented me a lot for Amber’s sake, he surely wouldn’t hand me over to a pervert to be tortured, right?
But to my surprise, Damon walked to the bar, poured a glass of wine, and shoved it into my hand.
“Why don’t you toast Mr. Seven first to liven things up?”
Liven things up? Did he want me to entertain them?
He… actually agreed?
In a daze, I saw Amber give me a sinister smile.
“Sister! Didn’t you hear what Damon said?”
Just as I was looking at Amber, not knowing what to do, she suddenly kicked me in the knee.
In an instant, I lost my balance, and the wine in my hand spilled on the playboy’s face.
Then I fell onto the shattered glass, immediately cutting several bloody gashes on my arm.
My eyes met the distorted, pale face of the woman on the floor.
Amber’s shrill accusations rang in my ears:
“Sister, if you didn’t want to toast, you could have just said so. There’s no need to pretend to be crazy to anger Mr. Seven. Is this how you act as Damon’s wife? Are you trying to embarrass Damon?”
The playboy’s expression froze for a moment, then he suddenly realized something and stared at me with wide eyes:
“You… you’re Damon’s legendary wife?”
I said nothing, just sat on the ground, my body and heart aching almost to the point of suffocation.
The playboy reached out to grab my arm, but Damon immediately seized his wrist.
Damon glanced at my blood-covered face, his eyes suddenly turning gloomy. He gritted his teeth as he looked at the playboy:
“Get out!”
The playboy was intimidated and had to leave, grumbling under his breath.
“Damon! Are you crazy? If I had known she was your psycho wife, I wouldn’t have touched her!”
As the playboy disappeared, I got up to leave, but my arm was once again gripped by a large hand.
“Elena, aren’t you happy now that you don’t have to be punished? Did those two years on the island not teach you how to behave? You only had to toast a drink, and this would have been over. Why did you have to act crazy? You knew that when I asked you to toast, I was trying to end this, didn’t you? Are you that clueless?”
Looking at the angry Damon, I responded with bloodshot eyes.
This time, I finally didn’t hold back and retorted:
“Damon! I’m your wife. If you had just made my identity clear, this would have been over just the same.”
My words were clear. It was him, he was the one who wanted to play with my vanity to protect Amber’s face, which is why he never said anything.
Caught off guard by my revelation, Damon felt a bit guilty.
Amber, seeing this, wanted to defend him.
But Damon frowned and spoke up to stop her:
“Enough! Shut up and wait for me in the car.”
After her footsteps faded away, he sighed:
“I’m sorry, but I still need to explain. I really didn’t know what ‘stuffing eggs’ meant. If I had known, I wouldn’t have agreed from the start.”
“As for Amber, I hope you can understand. After all, she just came back to the country and saw that I was marr-”
Damon stopped abruptly, but I could still guess what he was going to say.
He wanted to say that Amber was in a bad mood because she found out he was married, so she deliberately gave me a hard time, and he wanted me to forgive her.
Our eyes met, and Damon seemed to understand the mockery in mine. He sighed again.
“Alright, I see you’re hurt. I’ll have the driver take you to the hospital. Amber’s not in a good state, so I need to check on her. We’ll talk about this when I get back.”
Without waiting for my response, he added: “Although you didn’t complete the task, I’ll allow you to count this as one forgiveness voucher.”
With that, he turned and left. Watching his retreating figure, I touched my still-bleeding forehead and burst into laughter.
But I didn’t care anymore.
Just two more times, and once I’ve repaid my debt, I’ll leave.
From now on, I won’t suffer his mistreatment anymore.
It was late at night when the driver sent me home. Damon hadn’t returned, and I didn’t bother to ask.
The next day, his assistant brought his gift: two commercial property deeds.
He specifically emphasized that one was compensation for forcing me to lick the cream, and the other was an apology for the egg incident.
Expressionless, I labeled the deeds with numbers 96 and 97, then carelessly stuffed them into the safe.
The maid beside me smiled fondly:
“Mr. Damon really dotes on you, ma’am. He’s been giving gifts more and more frequently.”
I smiled without saying a word.
She didn’t know that these were just Damon’s compensations after hurting me each time.
Looking at the safe full of property deeds, I knew I would be able to leave soon.
But before I left, I just wanted to take one camera with me. It contained things I had to destroy.
Damon was very exploratory when it came to intimate matters, and in the heat of the moment, he would sometimes impulsively record our encounters with a camera.
In the past, those videos were just marital intimacy.
But now, I didn’t want them to remain. After all, if the videos were leaked, I would be ruined.
However, after searching every corner of the room, I couldn’t find that camera.
Just as I was about to search again, my agent called, yelling angrily:
“Elena, are you crazy? Look at the internet! Your private photos are everywhere! How dare you accompany other sugar daddies behind Damon’s back? If you want to die, don’t drag our whole company down with you!”
In an instant, my mind exploded, only hearing my agent’s words:
“You’d better give me an explanation for the videos online right now! And for Damon’s fury, or we’ll haunt you even as ghosts!”
The call was hung up, and I quickly opened my phone.
I saw that the top trending topic was my private video.
With bold, explosive text: [Supermodel Elena Sleeps Her Way to the Top]
In it, Damon’s face was blurred, while mine was clearly visible in the center, flushed with desire.
Millions of netizens were online hurling abuse, calling me a slut who slept with multiple sugar daddies for resources, a woman who would sleep with anyone.
My legs gave way, and I collapsed to the ground.
But in the last moment before I lost strength, I was suddenly caught in Damon’s strong embrace.
“Don’t look at those things. It’s okay, I’ll handle it. Trust me!”
The comforting words had barely left his ears when he turned, his face cold, and roared at the room full of people.
“Who did this! Tell me! Who did this!”
Seeing his unprecedented fury, my eyes suddenly stung with tears.
But at the same time, Amber’s casual voice came from nearby:
“Damon, you mean the videos? I uploaded them!”
The arm around my waist suddenly tightened. Damon and I both looked at Amber.
“Don’t look at me like that! I just happened to see them and thought sister’s body was too amazing to be seen by only you, Damon. So I took the initiative to share them!”
“After all, beautiful things should be enjoyed by everyone, right?”
In an instant, blood rushed to my head. I got up to slap Amber, but Damon steadily caught my hand.
“Elena! Enough!”
I was furious and grief-stricken, shouting: “But she-”
Before I could finish, Damon glanced at the smug Amber, then turned back to me with a frown:
“I’ll help you take down the trending topics. Let’s end this here. Don’t cause trouble for Amber, okay? You know, after all, she’s also…”
“No! Damon, why should I let it go? She’s ruined my reputation! Why should I let it go?”
“I want to sue her for defamation! She must pay the price!”
I stared at Damon with bloodshot eyes, refusing to back down even a little.
“Elena! You-”
Damon took a deep breath, about to persuade me again.
But Amber tugged at Damon’s sleeve, pretending to sob with reddened eyes:
“Damon! Don’t say anymore. I know I was wrong. Let sister sue me. I shouldn’t have been jealous, jealous that she married you. It was my fault. If only I had persisted back then!”
As she spoke, Amber’s eyes turned red, and she began to cry.
“Sister, I really know I was wrong. I’ll kneel and apologize to you. Please don’t make things difficult for Damon.”
“If it makes you happy, I’ll turn myself in right now and help clear your name! At worst, let me be ruined too, but please don’t let this ruin your relationship.”
Seeing Amber about to kneel before me, Damon’s eyes turned cold again. He said to me in a deep voice:
“Elena! Amber already knows she was wrong. Let it go.”
“Your reputation is already ruined anyway, so why not just quit the industry and enjoy being a rich housewife at home? Isn’t that good?”
I was shocked by his blindness, unable to believe he would still indulge her to this extent.
I was about to speak again, but in the next second, I received a hard slap across the face, leaving it stinging.
His knuckles were red, his breathing rapid, his eyes filled with unprecedented violence.
He threw a disclaimer at me:
“Be good and sign this. Once the storm blows over, I’ll help you make a comeback.”
“But if you dare to report this to the police, don’t even think about stepping out of this door again!”
“I won’t sign!”
I gritted my teeth, staring at him.
But no matter how much I struggled and refused to sign, Damon forcibly pressed my handprint onto the disclaimer.
As I collapsed to the ground, exhausted,
A feeling of helplessness and pain that I had never experienced before swept over my entire body, like thousands of needles piercing my heart.
They left, but their casual conversation was like poisonous insects crawling into my ears:
“Damon, is sister okay…”
“She’s fine. As long as she still wants to make a comeback, she’ll listen to me. At worst…”
“I’ll count it as one forgiveness voucher. She still has dozens left, she’ll behave.”
No, there aren’t any left. There’s only one more time.
Damon, I won’t be your puppet anymore.
After sitting stunned on the ground for a long time, I finally went back to my room and took out my diary.
Although everyone says the modeling world isn’t much cleaner than the entertainment industry, I really loved this career.
Standing on the runway, bathed in spotlights – that confidence was where I found my value.
But now, it had been utterly destroyed. Perhaps even heaven was telling me it was time to go, to not linger anymore.
Tears flowing, I wrote down today’s events in the book, ending with the number 98.
Every time he hurt me, I would record it in my diary to remind myself not to soften.
But Damon’s voice suddenly came from behind:
“What does 98 mean?”
Seeing him reach for the diary, I quickly closed it and stuffed it into the drawer.
“Nothing.”
He sensed my panic and seemed to think of something:
“You girls are so delicate, always writing grudges in your little books. Is this the grudge book you mentioned?”
He was referring to our wedding after we got married, when he lost the wedding rings.
He had to use two soda can tabs as a substitute to exchange rings with me.
That night, I was so angry I kicked him off the bed:
“Damon, you’re killing me. I’m going to curse you in my grudge book.”
He laughed through his tears: “Write whatever you want, I can always win you back.”
Realizing he had misunderstood, I didn’t bother to explain and just nodded halfheartedly.
Remembering the sweetness of our newlywed days, his cold face finally showed a rare smile:
“Alright, I said I could definitely win you back, so no more holding grudges. Come take a look.”
He handed me a property deed and casually pulled me into his arms.
“It’s a new building in the city center. I specially kept it to give you as a gift.”
“The video has been urgently dealt with. Next month, I’ll let you make a comeback, okay?”
The maid outside peeked in enviously.
But I remained stiff and unmoving, saying flatly:
“Whatever you say.”
Seeing that I was unmoved by either kindness or harshness, his brows furrowed, a hint of anger in his eyes:
“Are you determined to make an issue of this?”
I looked up, my eyes dark as I stared at him:
“No, how would I dare, Mr. Damon?”
My words immediately set Damon off.
“Elena, I took those videos, and I was careless in letting Amber see them. If you’re angry, take it out on me. Understand?”
For a moment, it felt like a heavy stone was pressing on my chest.
He could do anything for Amber, even humble himself in front of me, or sacrifice himself for her.
I suddenly felt so tired.
I didn’t want to be entangled with them anymore.
So I calmly agreed: “I understand.”
Seeing that his punch had hit cotton, he frowned and gritted his teeth, staring at me for a long time before finally slamming the door as he left.
The next day, Damon sent a message asking me to come to the golf course.
I was going to reply that I wouldn’t go, but the next second a message came:
“I’ll count it as one forgiveness voucher.”
Looking at these words, thinking this was the last time, I eventually went.
As soon as I entered the private golf course, I didn’t see Damon. Instead, someone kicked me from behind, knocking me to the ground.
Amber’s voice drifted over:
“Don’t bother looking. I’m the one who invited you.”
As she finished speaking, two bodyguards restrained me.
Then clubs began to rain down on my legs furiously. Blood splattered as I screamed in agony.
Fighting through the excruciating pain, I shouted:
“Amber, have you gone mad!”
She smiled sweetly, but her eyes flashed with venom:
“Elena, how dare you! You’re already a pariah, yet Damon still won’t divorce you. He even says he needs to make it up to you and help you make a comeback.”
“Elena, tell me! How dare you?!”
Damon treats her like a goddess, and even his casual words to placate me are worth her making such a big fuss?
Utterly exasperated, I said coldly:
“I’m not trying to compete with you.”
Seeing that I knew my place, she snorted and said haughtily:
“But I just can’t stand the sight of you. You’re a supermodel, right? Well, I’ll break your legs and see how you seduce Damon then!”
Looking at the sticky blood on my pant leg, she retched in disgust. Her eyes fell on a golf ball nearby.
As if suddenly thinking of something, she smiled eerily.
“Strip her pants!” Her voice was shrill.
“Last time we didn’t get to stuff the egg. What a pity. There’s a ball right here. Elena, I guarantee you’ll feel ecstasy today!”
She caressed the golf ball in her hand and ordered the bodyguards to strip my pants.
I struggled desperately, roaring like a wild beast.
Amber giggled in my ear, grabbing my face, her manicured nails leaving bloody scratches:
“Don’t scream! You’ll feel so good soon, better than any man! I promise you’ll be addicted!”
Looking at her ugly face, I flashed back to Damon’s countless rebukes, disgust, and cold stares because of her.
Tears suddenly poured out, giving me the courage to throw caution to the wind.
I was leaving anyway.
Why should I let her bully me!
Just as my pants were about to be pulled down, strength came from nowhere. I suddenly pushed away the bodyguards and charged at Amber.
Then I opened my mouth and bit down hard on her hand. Amber let out a piercing scream, frantically trying to tear my mouth away.
But I wouldn’t let go no matter what. The taste of blood filled my nose as I bit off half of Amber’s finger.
“What are you doing?” Damon’s stern roar came from behind.
As he rushed in, he came face to face with my blood-covered face and half-stripped lower body.
Realizing Amber was bullying me, he was shocked!
He kicked the bodyguards away and quickly pulled up my pants, his eyes filled with anxiety.
“Elena, what happened? Don’t be afraid, I’ll… take you to the hospital!”
But Amber suddenly screamed, showing him her bloody half-finger, her cries shrill and almost piercing the air:
“Damon, she bit off my finger! My hand is ruined!”
“It hurts so much! Damon, save me, please!”
Damon’s expression changed dramatically. He turned to look at me in shock, caught in a dilemma.
But after just a moment, he tossed me a few words and hurriedly picked up Amber.
“The survival time for a finger is low. I’ll take her to the hospital first. Call an ambulance yourself. I’ll come pick you up later.”
Hearing this, my heart suddenly plummeted into an endless abyss.
So, he wasn’t unaware of Amber’s vicious nature. He was just biased.
I looked up at him, my eyes full of desolation:
“Damon, this is the last time.”
Damon looked at my completely hardened expression and suddenly felt a pang in his heart, feeling as if he had lost something important.
But feeling the broken and shattered person in his arms, he still chose to abandon me without hesitation.
As he was leaving, he looked at me earnestly, pleading:
“I know you’re wronged. I’ll definitely give you an explanation this time.”
“Just… don’t call the police… please.”
Watching his back disappear with my own eyes, I didn’t go to the hospital. I just dragged my injured leg back to the villa.
Sure enough, as soon as I got home, the maid handed me the 99th property deed.
It was for this villa.
I locked it in the safe.
Along with my diary, divorce agreement, and contract termination papers, I placed them on the table.
I took a note and left him a line:
“The life debt is repaid, love cannot continue. Damon, let’s divorce.”
I took what little luggage I had and checked in for a flight to Yunnan.
Damon, this is how it ends between us.
As the plane streaked across the sky, Damon returned home, exhausted.
The room was empty and silent. He was confused and called me.
He noticed the note on the bedroom table and was about to pick it up when a cold, mechanical female voice came from his phone.
“Sorry, the number you have dialed is not available…”
And in the next second, when he saw the large characters on the note, his pupils suddenly constricted!
“The life debt is repaid, love cannot continue. Damon, let’s divorce.”
Damon’s mind went blank, barely recognizing the word “divorce.”
He picked up the paper, turning to the last page, and only then did he clearly see the three large characters signed: Elena.
He finally realized that Elena really wanted to divorce him.
Looking at the contract termination agreement laid out before his eyes, he angrily smashed his phone.
Then he called my agent, roaring furiously:
“You dared to terminate her contract behind my back. Do you want to die?”
The agent was terrified and could only weakly explain:
“Mr. Damon, didn’t you tell us that Amber was seriously injured, and unless the sky was falling, not to bother you?”
Damon’s body stiffened.
He remembered receiving a call when the experts couldn’t treat Amber.
But he was so anxious at the time that he cursed the caller and hung up.
Who knew it was about Elena’s contract termination?
“How could you let her leave without my signature on the termination agreement?”
Damon was determined to vent his anger on someone today.
The other side sighed again:
“Mr. Damon, have you forgotten? You signed the contract five years ago.”
“She’s your wife. You gave her special approval for termination back then, and you even paid the breach of contract fee out of your own pocket…”
Damon’s lips had lost all color as he gritted his back teeth.
That did happen.
But he had long forgotten about it.
At that time, he was passionately in love with Elena. He signed her to his own company, poured resources into making her a star, just to give her the best treatment and ensure she wouldn’t be constrained.
He even spent all the liquid assets he had, angering his grandfather who punished him with twenty strokes of the family rod.
After his wounds healed, Elena was so worried about him that she developed a fever in the middle of the night and almost died.
He was terrified and mobilized all his connections in the city to save her.
He cried like never before at her bedside:
“Elena! You can’t have anything happen to you, you can’t die. Even the King of Hell can’t take my wife from me!”
And when Elena woke up, her one sentence made him cry tears of joy:
“Is this your way of proposing to me?”
As the memories flooded back, Damon’s eyes stung.
His self-perceived doting had almost cost Elena her life back then, and now it had made her disappear from his world completely.
Didn’t Elena say she loved him?
Then why did she leave him…
His nails dug into his flesh, but he couldn’t feel any pain. His heart continued to ache.
The world seemed to return to those dark days when he was besieged within the Jin family, desperately fighting for power.
Those were the darkest days of his twenty years, suddenly plunging into an icy hell, all warmth around him vanishing.
Only Elena stayed by his side, loving him.
She stayed up late with him, coaxed him to sleep, took him to see a therapist, accompanied him in extreme sports. She gave him love, becoming his emotional pillar.
How could someone like her leave?
Damon crouched on the ground, burying his head in his arms, questioning the air over and over.
But no one could give him an answer.
The phone on the ground was still ringing:
“Sigh, Elena is pitiful too. Her legs were beaten until she was crippled. She can’t be a model anymore.”
“But at least she retired from the industry while still hot as an international supermodel. People will remember her, so she won’t be too lonely.”
A tear fell on Damon’s phone as he urgently wanted to know exactly what had happened:
“How badly were her legs injured?”
The agent’s voice immediately turned angry:
“It’s really despicable. Those people specifically wanted to ruin her. They didn’t touch anywhere else, just completely destroyed her legs. It’s a sin!”
“Originally there was hope for treatment, but who knows why it took so long to get her to the hospital. Her right leg is beyond saving now.”
Only her legs were injured? Specifically to ruin her career?
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The hotel receptionist had been eyeing my boyfriend all morning. Now, she decided to make her move with a vicious, public smear.
“Miss, you checked in yesterday with a different man. And when you left, you stained the bedsheets and refused to pay for the damage.”
Ryan stared at me in complete shock. The receptionist added with fake concern.
“Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t say something I shouldn’t have, did I?”
When I demanded security footage, she claimed the cameras were down.
What she never expected was that this luxury hotel answered to my family.
“Good afternoon, ma’am, how can I help you?”
The receptionist’s words were directed at me, but her gaze remained locked on Ryan.
My eyes dropped to her name tag.
Sarah.
I remembered this delicate-looking receptionist quite clearly.
Last night, when Ryan brought me to check in, she was the one who assisted us.
She’d been so fixated on Ryan, she even knocked over a glass of water.
After clumsily cleaning up, it took her another ten minutes to finally finish my check-in.
I knew Ryan was a looker.
He was tall and muscular, with handsome features and eyes that were surprisingly gentle and deep.
Girls often stared at him, dumbfounded, and I never really cared.
After all, everyone likes to look at a handsome guy.
But this receptionist? Wasn’t she a little too unprofessional?
“Hi, I checked out this morning. I left a necklace on the bathroom counter.”
“Hello? Did you hear me?”
Ryan and I were college sweethearts. We met at a party during our senior year.
They say graduation season is breakup season.
Even though we moved back to our respective cities for work, joining the ranks of long-distance couples, our relationship remained solid.
This time, I was in Ryan’s city for a business trip. He suggested I stay at his place, but his parents and grandparents lived there too.
Before getting married, I didn’t want to move in with him and face the scrutiny of his entire family.
So, Ryan booked me a room at the only five-star hotel in the area.
I checked out early this morning. After lunch with Ryan, as we were heading home, I realized I’d left my necklace at the hotel.
I waved my hand in front of the receptionist’s face a few times before she finally blushed and tore her gaze away from Ryan.
She looked down at her computer screen and replied without hesitation:
“Good afternoon, ma’am. Housekeeping already cleaned your room this morning. There were no items left behind. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”
I was a bit taken aback.
This morning, while I was brushing my hair in front of the mirror, my hair got tangled in the necklace.
I’d taken it off and set it aside. After I finished my hair, just as I was about to grab the necklace, my phone rang.
My client, who I was supposed to meet later, had arrived early.
I rushed out, grabbing my bag, and only remembered the necklace after the contract was signed.
“I’m sure I left it on the bathroom counter. Please, could you ask the cleaning lady again?”
The receptionist didn’t make a call. Instead, she stated firmly:
“We didn’t find anything. You must be mistaken.”
Seeing my frown, Ryan stepped forward and took my hand.
“Don’t worry. Are you sure you can’t think a bit harder?”
“Maybe you dropped it somewhere on the way out?”
I was a little annoyed.
What did he mean? Was he implying I was mistaken?
I was absolutely certain my necklace was on that bathroom counter.
It was a diamond necklace my mom gave me for my birthday last month, and it was worth a fortune.
“Your hotel lobby and elevators should have security cameras, right? Have someone pull up the footage.”
“We’ll see if I was wearing the necklace when I left. It’ll be obvious.”
Ryan sighed in relief and joined me in urging the receptionist:
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
“Have someone check the footage.”
The receptionist froze, her eyes darted around, then she bit her lip, looking at me with a complicated expression.
“Ma’am, could your necklace have been taken by your companion?”
Both Ryan and I were stunned.
Ryan’s face changed, and he pressed anxiously:
“Companion? What companion?”
The receptionist blurted out:
“The gentleman who stayed with this lady yesterday.”
“This lady left first in the morning, and that gentleman checked out an hour later.”
“Housekeeping went to inspect the room afterward and found the bedsheets covered in. stains.”
“According to regulations, there’s a cleaning fee for stained sheets, but that gentleman refused to pay and argued about it for ages.”
Ryan was practically fuming, his face flushed crimson, and his voice shot up several notches.
“What gentleman! What gentleman are you talking about?!”
I was even angrier than him.
Is this receptionist out of her mind? Last night, I was busy revising and reviewing a contract, staying up until three in the morning to finish. What man could possibly have been there?
What kind of insane nonsense was she spouting?!
And what did she mean by “stained bedsheets”?!
I glared at her, my face hardening.
“You know, speaking like this carries legal consequences. Now tell me again, what man was in my room yesterday?”
The receptionist looked as if I’d scared her, taking two steps back.
“I-I might have remembered wrong.”
Ryan pulled me aside, gritting his teeth and glaring at me.
“Scarlett, you can’t threaten her.”
Then he turned back, forcing a strained smile at the receptionist.
“Take your time, don’t be scared.”
Sarah nervously lowered her head, deliberately dropping her voice.
“I-we’re not supposed to disclose guest privacy.”
“I’m sorry, just pretend I made a mistake.”
I nearly passed out from anger, a surge of pure rage shot through me.
Ryan was just as furious.
His eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving.
“Scarlett, is this why you didn’t want to stay at my place?”
“No wonder you ignored my FaceTime last night… Who was that man?”
Ryan didn’t believe me.
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When the game world fell into reality, Caius found me first and put his arm around my waist.
He smiled and looked at me for a long moment.
âFound you,â he said.
Becuse players were screaming and selling their accounts.
I didnât.
I stayed up late and said goodbye to every NPC I cared about.
The next morning, the game world broke into reality.
The ones I used to flirt with in the game were now stepping into my world for real.
The news hit like a bombshell: Sword World, the game that had taken the world by storm, was shutting down in 24 hours.
The moment the announcement dropped, players everywhere rushed to sell their accounts. My roommate Sarah was no different. âYou should sell yours too,â she urged. âMight as well make some money back while you still can.â
But I couldnât do it. This wasnât just a game account to me. It was a reminder of everything Iâd been through, a source of comfort during my hardest years. To me, it was priceless.
When Sarah suggested we sell our accounts together as a bundle, I politely turned her down and logged into the game by myself. If this was the end, I wanted to say goodbye properly.
After all, this game had been with me for five long, difficult years.
I followed my usual routine: I harvested the vegetables in my little virtual garden, tidied up, and got everything in order. Then, I set off to visit the NPCs one last time.
I spent every last coin in my account.
I bought the stable boy his favorite pastries.
Picked out the perfect calligraphy set for the schoolteacher.
And got the beggar by the city gates a new pair of straw sandals.
One by one, I visited them all, bringing gifts and watching as they broke into their familiar smiles. âThank you, hero!â they said, cheerful as always. I couldnât help but smile back.
âGoodbye,â I whispered to the screen. âI donât think weâll meet again, but I hope youâll be okay. Take care of yourselves.â
Behind me, Sarah let out a loud snort. âAre you serious?â she said, rolling her eyes. âTheyâre just a bunch of lines of code. The moment the servers shut down, theyâll get deleted in an instant.â
âTake care of themselves? Youâre acting like theyâre real people!â
I stayed quiet, but her mocking tone grated on me.
âYouâve totally lost it,â she continued, laughing. âCalling NPCs your âfriendsâ? You need help. Like, actual help. Maybe I should tell someoneâget you checked out or something.â
Then she reached for my phone. âCome on, stop being ridiculous! Just sell your account already! If we sell ours together, weâll get way more money.â
I shoved her hand away. âI said no, Sarah!â My voice was steady, but my patience was wearing thin.
âAnd for the record,â I added, staring her down, âfriends are the ones who bring you comfort and joy. These NPCs did that for me when no one else did. So yeah, theyâre my friends. Deal with it.â
As we argued, the clock quietly struck midnight.
I glanced at my phone, and my heart sank. The game had logged me out. The servers were officially shut down.
No more Sword World. No more NPCs.
And worst of all, I hadnât made it to Caius.
Caiusâthe sensitive one, the one whoâd probably take it the hardest if I disappeared without saying goodbye.
I stared at the blank screen, guilt gnawing at me. But it didnât matter now. Sword World was gone, and there was nothing I could do.
The day Sword World shut down, the wind outside was ferocious.
I watched from the dorm window as a convenience storeâs patio umbrella, base and all, was ripped off the ground and sent flying several meters down the street.
The store clerk ran out, trying to grab it, but the wind shoved him back like a toy.
Every news channel was looping coverage of the global storm. Experts took turns sharing their theories, but no one could explain it.
Some people online were even saying it was the end of the world.
Meanwhile, I stared at the dwindling food stash in our dorm room. The storm showed no signs of stopping, and I was running out of options. My supplies wouldnât last past tonight.
Sarah, my roommate, didnât seem worried at all. She leaned back in her chair, scrolling through her phone. âTold you you shouldâve sold your account when you had the chance.â
She smirked. âI got a cool eighty grand for mine. Once the moneyâs in my account, Iâll be swimming in takeoutâeven if delivery fees shoot up to a hundred bucks.â
She shot me a glance. âYou? Youâre on your own. Hope you enjoy starving.â
I ignored her. There was no point arguing. She clearly didnât realize that no one in their right mind would drop that kind of money on a game account after the servers shut down. It was almost definitely a scam.
I got up, heading toward the bathroom to wash up when something strange happened.
A cold, robotic voice echoed through the room.
âSword World dungeon successfully initialized. First mission: find Lyraâs favorite item near the village entrance.
Time limit: 24 hours. Failure will result in erasure.â
I froze.
âLyra?â I whispered.
Sarah, on the other hand, rolled her eyes. âWhat the hell? A mission? Whoâs pulling this dumb prank?â
I wasnât sure what to say. Lyra was a name I knewâshe was an NPC in Sword World. The granddaughter of the beginner village chief. A sweet little girl who loved playing hide-and-seek by the creek near the village gates.
But this couldnât be real. It had to be some weird coincidence.
Before I could think further, there was a loud, frantic knock at the door.
Sarah sighed dramatically and stomped over to open it. âWho is it?â
Standing there was Jessica, another girl from our dorm.
She looked awfulâher clothes were torn, and she was covered in blood. She wobbled unsteadily, clutching the doorframe for support.
âHelp⊠meâŠâ she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper.
Then, before we could react, she collapsed, hitting the floor with a sickening thud.
Behind her, standing in the hallway, was a little girl.
She couldnât have been older than six or seven, with twin pigtails and a lollipop in her hand. She swayed slightly as she stared at us, her big, round eyes sparkling with an eerie light.
Then she smiled.
âBig sister,â she said sweetly, tilting her head. âDid you find my favorite thing yet?â
Sarah jumped back in shock. âWhat theâwhere did this creepy kid come from?! Hey, where are your parents?!â
I couldnât move. I couldnât even speak.
The girlâs face, her outfit, her voiceâit was exactly like Lyra. The Sword World NPC.
Down to the last detail.
My stomach twisted into knots. This couldnât be real. There was no way someone could look exactly like an NPC from a video game.
I took a step back, my mind racing. But as I moved, something cold brushed against my leg.
The chill shot through me like ice water.
I looked down.
Jessica.
She was lying there, motionless. Her skin was pale, her lips blue. I crouched down, reaching out with trembling hands, and froze when I touched her.
She was ice-cold. Her entire body felt like it had been pulled out of a freezer.
I scrambled backward, panic rising in my chest. âSheâsâsheâs gone!â
Sarah turned to glare at me, annoyed. âWhat the hell are you talking about? gone? Are you losing it?â
Before I could respond, the TV, my phone, Sarahâs laptopâevery screen in the room suddenly flickered and changed to the same broadcast.
A news anchor appeared on the screen, pale and visibly shaken.
âThis is an emergency announcement,â they began, their voice tense. âAfter thorough investigation, experts have confirmed that the recent global anomalies are linked to a martial arts game called Sword World.â
I felt my blood run cold.
The anchor continued, their tone growing more urgent. âWe are now asking anyone familiar with this game to come forward and provide information.
âIf you encounter anyone resembling NPCs from the game, do not engage with them. Avoid contact at all costs. Do not speak to them, and leave the area immediately.â
They paused, their eyes darting nervously off-camera. Then, in a lower voice, they added:
âIf you must interact with them, answer their questions carefully. Incorrect answers may result inâŠ.â
The broadcast repeated the warning, hammering it into viewersâ heads:
âDo not engage with NPCs. Do not make eye contact. Answer questions with extreme caution.â
Then, the screen cut to a slideshow of game NPCs.
âNo way⊠this has to be some kind of joke. Thereâs no way the gameâs NPCs are actually real!â
Sarah stared in disbelief, her eyes darting back and forth between the computer screen and the little girl standing in front of us.
Meanwhile, Lyra stood there smiling sweetly, looking for all the world like a perfectly normal kid.
âBig sister,â she said, tilting her head innocently. âDid you find Lyraâs favorite thing yet? Itâs getting late, and Lyra needs to go home. Hurry and tell me, okay?â
My hands started to trembleânot from fear, but from excitement.
I thought Iâd never see them againâthe friends who had been with me through the hardest five years of my life.
When Sword World shut down, it felt like losing a piece of myself. All the people, the stories, the memories Iâd poured my heart intoâthey were gone in an instant. All I could do was sit by helplessly as years of effort disappeared overnight.
I remember the shock when I first heard the news. It was like my blood had turned to ice. I couldnât stop replaying it in my head; I couldnât stop panicking over what life might be like without them.
But now⊠now they were back.
Sure, the situation was strangeâterrifying, evenâbut I couldnât help feeling a spark of joy.
Sarahâs voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
âWho the hell knows what she likes?â she said, glaring at Lyra. âSheâs just some random NPC from the beginnerâs village! She barely even has a role in the game.â
Then Sarahâs expression shifted. Her eyes lit up with an idea, and before I could react, she grabbed my arm and shoved me forward.
âShe knows!â Sarah blurted out, pointing at me. âAsk her! She can tell you!â
And then, without a secondâs hesitation, Sarah slammed the dorm door shut behind me.
Through the small glass window in the door, I could see her smirking at me.
âIâm not perishing for this,â she said with a cruel grin. âIf anyoneâs meeting their end because of this eerie little creature, itâs you.â
She gave me a mocking wave. âBesides, isnât this your thing? Youâre always obsessing over NPCs and their stories. Time to put all that âresearchâ to good use. Go on, Elaraâthis is your big moment!â
Her voice was dripping with malice, the same condescending tone sheâd used so many times before. It was just like the way sheâd told everyone I was âcrazyâ for treating NPCs like real people, the way sheâd turned the entire class against me.
Fine, Sarah. If this is how you want to play, Iâll play too.
I turned to Lyra, forcing myself to stay calm.
âLyra,â I said gently, âI know what your favorite thing is. But after I tell you, can you promise me something?â
She blinked, tilting her head curiously. âWhat is it, big sister?â
âYou have to ask that big sister, too,â I said, nodding toward Sarah through the window. âShe really wants to answer your question as well.â
Lyraâs eyes lit up. âOh! Does that big sister want to play with me, too? Okay! But you have to go first! Once you tell me, Iâll ask her next!â
Behind the door, Sarahâs smirk vanished. Her expression twisted into panic as she realized what I was doing. She started banging on the door with her fists.
âElara, you bitch! Youâre doing this on purpose, arenât you? Just answer her question and get it over with!â
She was practically screaming now. “You’re gonna get me in serious trouble! Darn it, Elara!”
I ignored her. Leaning down, I whispered into Lyraâs ear, my voice low enough that only she could hear.
âLyra loves the butcherâs big cleaver, doesnât she?â
For a moment, Lyraâs eyes gleamed with something sharp and unnatural. Then, she let out a soft giggle.
âWow, big sister, you really know a lot!â she said, clapping her hands together.
Behind the door, Sarahâs banging grew even louder.
âWhat did you tell her?!â she shouted, her voice cracking. âElara, what the hell did you say?! You canât just leave me hanging like this!â
She sounded frantic now, her words tumbling over each other. âWeâre roommates! You canât just let me go! Help me!â
But before I could respond, Lyraâs cheerful voice cut through the chaos.
âHmm⊠but you got it wrong!â
What?
I froze.
Sarah stopped yelling.
For a moment, everything was silent.
She let out a cold laugh, her voice dripping with disdain. âWow, and here I thought you were actually good at something. Typical Elaraâuseless and weird.â
âYou couldnât level up properly; you were trash at dungeons, and now you canât even figure out a low-level NPC. Pathetic.â
Her smirk deepened as she delivered the final blow. âPeople like youâantisocial losers living in your little fantasy worldsâarenât good for anything. Why donât you just do everyone a favor and disappear already?â
A sudden chill shot up from the ground, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Startled, I looked down to see an icy column snaking its way up my legs, frost spreading fast. Within seconds, my legs were frozen solid below the knees, sharp crystals glinting in the light.
This skill⊠I knew it. There was no mistake. It had to be herâthe mischievous Lyra from the beginner village in Sword World.
âLyra!â I shouted, panic slipping into my voice. âAre you acting up again?â
Her head tilted slightly, her big, round eyes blinking at me in confusion.
âDidnât I just tell you last night to behave and listen to your grandpa? What, you forgot already? If you keep this up, Iâm not bringing you any more pork floss buns!â
Her expression froze. She stared at me, wide-eyed, as if trying to process what Iâd just said.
âWho⊠are you?â she asked, her voice soft and hesitant.
I crossed my arms, lifting my chin. âWhat? You donât recognize me anymore? Oh, Lyra, youâre in big trouble now! Iâm never helping you steal the butcherâs cleaver again!â
Her eyes widened and then sparkled with sudden recognition. In an instant, she canceled the skill and ran toward me, throwing herself into my arms.
âItâs you! Mr. Handsome! Lyra finally found you!â
She hugged me tightly, burying her face in my chest, her voice trembling with excitement. âYou donât know how much Lyra missed you! Lyra waited and waited, but you never came back to visit.â
I patted her head gently, trying to suppress a smile.
But then she pulled back slightly, her innocent eyes scanning me from head to toe. Her brow furrowed in confusion.
âBut⊠Mr. Handsome, why are you a girl now? Did you⊠did you turn into a girl? Did you get a sex change?â
…
I froze, completely thrown off by her question.
Her wide, curious eyes stared at me, waiting for an answer. I opened my mouth and then closed it again, unsure of what to say. God, why did I ever think it was a good idea to create a male character?
Letting out an awkward laugh, I quickly changed the subject. âUh, letâs not focus on that right now. What I do want to know is why you lied earlier. I didnât get your question wrong, did I?â
Lyraâs smile faltered. Her eyes darkened slightly, and she lowered her head, her voice muffled as she spoke.
âI didnât lie,â she said softly. âYou were right. That used to be my favorite thing. But itâs not anymore.â
Before I could process what she meant, she suddenly looked up at me, her eyes blazing with anger.
âMs. Handsome!â she shouted, pointing angrily toward the door where Sarah had locked herself in. âIt was her, wasnât it? She hurt you! She was mean to you, wasnât she?â
Her small hands clenched into fists. âDonât worry, Lyra will protect you! Lyra will get rid of her for you!â
âWait, Lyraââ
But before I could stop her, dozens of thin, glimmering ice threads shot out from her hands, slicing through the air like needles.
Sarah barely had time to react. She let out a choked scream, scrambling to run, but it was too late.
The ice threads pierced through her body in an instant, blood splattering the walls as she collapsed to the floor.
She didnât even have time to cry out. Her lifeless eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Her body crumpled in a pool of red.
Lyra turned back to me, her face lighting up with pride.
âSee, sister? Arenât you happy now?â
I stared at Sarahâs body, my chest tightening painfully. My breath caught in my throat.
âLyra,â I said carefully, forcing myself to stay calm. âYou canât just go around harming people like that. Youâre still a kidâyou donât understand. This world isnât like the one you came from.â
I crouched down to her level, trying to meet her gaze. âWhen people gone here, they donât come back. Theyâre gone forever. Do you understand?â
Lyra pouted, clearly unconcerned. But when she saw the seriousness in my expression, she hesitated and then reluctantly nodded. âOkay⊠Iâll listen to you, big sister.â
Before I could say anything else, the schoolâs PA system cracked to life.
âThis is an urgent broadcast. Attention, all students. Sword World NPC Caius is currently searching for a specific individual: a man in a black bathrobe, with multicolored hair, a passion for gardening, and a large red flower on his head.â
âAnyone with information is requested to report to the nearest TV tower immediately. This is a priority alert. A significant reward will be given for any leads.â
I froze, staring at the speaker in disbelief.
Seriously, Caius?
Did you really have to describe my character in excruciating detail?
I sighed heavily, grabbing Lyraâs hand. âCome on, Lyra. Caiusâs looking for me. Letâs go find him.â
But before I could take a step, Lyra tugged on my hand, refusing to move.
âDo we have to go?â she asked, her voice small and hesitant. âCanât we just stay here? Just you and me?â
I crouched down, frowning slightly. âWhy, Lyra? Donât you want to see Caius? Donât you miss him?â
She squirmed, her eyes darting to the side. âMs. Handsome⊠you donât understand. Caiusâs different now.â
Her voice dropped to a whisper. âHeâs scary. Really scary. Lyra doesnât want to see him. Please, can we not go?â
I couldnât help but laugh softly. Typical kid behavior. Caius? Scary? The guy was the definition of calm and politeâprobably the least threatening person Iâd ever met.
I ruffled her hair, smiling reassuringly. âDonât worry, Lyra. Iâll protect you. Letâs go.â
Reluctantly, she nodded and followed me out of the dorm, though her steps were heavy with hesitation.
Weâd barely made it down the hall when we ran straight into John and his group.
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âShe sold her grandmaâs heirloom for me. Tell me thatâs not stupid.â
In 104-degree heat, I stood frozen at the villa gate, takeout bag in hand.
I knew that voice too wellâmy boyfriend, Brandon, the guy who had âfailedâ seven startups.
Then another voice chimed in from inside:
âBrandon, if she ever finds out youâre actually a billionaire and only pretending to be broke to get back at Chloe, sheâll lose it.â
Laughter erupted.
My entire body went cold.
I stepped aside, dialed a number, and said quietly, âGrandpa⊠you win. Iâll go through with the arranged marriage.â
Chloe’s syrupy voice drifted from inside the mansion
“Youâre the best, Brandon. What is Amelia, anyway? She never deserved you. Two years with you was more than she deserved.”
I stood stiffly outside the door, the takeout bag suddenly heavy in my grip.
Today was our second anniversary. Iâd planned to finish this delivery and surprise Brandon at home.
Brandon’s voice was relaxed in a way Iâd never heard.
“She never deserved me. If it werenât to avenge how she treated you back then, why would I play this role for two years?”
Chloe giggled.
“Look at her, Brandon. So pathetic, delivering food every day and actually thinking she’s saving her bankrupt prince.”
Through the cracked door I saw Brandon lounging on the sofa without any trace of his failed entrepreneur act.
My grandmother’s bracelet glittered around Chloe’s wrist like a cruel joke.
He pinched her cheek. “Watching her beg customers for extra delivery tips never gets old.”
My vision blurred. For two years I woke at 4 AM, worked until 11 PM, sold everything valuable. Even the bracelet my grandmother left me.
That night he’d held me, whispering, “When I get back on my feet, I’ll give you the life you deserve.”
Now I understood. His bankrupt family, his dead parents, all those failed startups. Every part of it was a lie designed to help another woman destroy me.
I slammed the door open.
The laughter died.
Brandon shot up from the sofa as if electrocuted, the blood draining from his face.
“Amelia? What are you…I can explain! This is just a business meeting.”
My gaze never reached him, locked on the bracelet circling Chloe’s wrist.
“The bracelet. Give it back.”
She tilted her head, a smirk playing on her lips. “Why should I? Brandon gave it to me as a gift.”
“That was my grandmother’s,” I said, my voice shaking. “I pawned it to fund his so-called startup.”
Brandon’s smile stiffened. He reached for my wrist, his tone softening into that familiar, poisonous sweetness. “Amelia, let me explain.”
I snatched my arm back. “Explain the lies? Or how you stole my grandmother’s bracelet for her?”
Chloe rose, cradling the jade bracelet protectively. âYou want it? One million dollars. Pay up, and it’s yours.”
One million dollars!
Since cutting ties with my family and pouring every cent into Brandon’s ventures, I was broke. I couldn’t even scrounge up a thousand bucks.
Brandon avoided my eyes, silently endorsing Chloe’s cruelty.
My heart sank. “Give me three days,” I gritted out. “I’ll get the money.”
Chloe laughed. “Three days? You’ll never earn a million delivering takeout!”
She snatched the food from my hands and flung the gourmet meal at me. Sauce dripped down my clothes as she ground the expensive steak under her heel. “This is all you’re worth.”
Though stained and humiliated, I stood my ground, fists clenched.
She suddenly ripped the bracelet from her wrist and threw open the window.
“Look at you. So pathetic. So cheap. Since you care this so much-”
Before I could move, she hurled it out.
I lunged forward. “No!”
The bracelet flashed in the light before vanishing into a storm drain.
My grandmother had put it on me herself before she passed. It was the last tangible link to her, to my family.
I shoved Brandon away when he tried to grab me. “Get lost.”
Under everyone’s astonished gazes, I didn’t hesitate to jump into the storm drain.
Instantly, the sewage reached my waist, and a wave of sickening stench hit me.
Around me, gasps and jeers erupted, but I heard nothing, cared for nothing.
Chloe’s piercing laughter echoed from upstairs. “Hahaha, look at that crazy woman! Jumping into a sewer for a useless old bracelet, it’s hilarious!”
Brandon frowned and yelled at me, “It’s just a useless old bracelet, do you have to be so dramatic?”
Useless old bracelet?
It was the only thing my grandmother had left me!
And his beloved Chloe had thrown it away like garbage!
I frantically fumbled in the murky water, enduring the scorching sun overhead. I searched for nearly half an hour in that sewage.
Finally, I felt the outline of the bracelet, only to find it broken into three pieces.
Clutching the fractured bracelet in my hand, I slowly climbed out of the storm drain.
The onlookers, covering their noses, parted to make way.
Brandon’s voice drifted from the villa steps, sharp with contempt and anger.
That face, which once made my heart race, was now twisted into a mask of cruel unfamiliarity.
“Amelia! If you dare to walk away now, we’re over.”
I looked down at the broken jade, my voice eerily calm.
“We were over a long time ago.”
Chloe walked over in her high heels, intimately hooked her arm through Brandon’s, and jingled another gold bracelet on her wrist.
“Brandon, why waste words on trash like her? She doesn’t even deserve to be mentioned by you. Should I throw this one down too, so she can perform another sewer dive?”
Brandon suddenly let out a cold laugh.
“Amelia, watching you work your butt off like an idiot to support me these past two years? It was the greatest joy of my life. Don’t think for a second I’d ever like a cheap-looking woman like you. Can’t even do your makeup, you’re an embarrassment to be seen with.”
My body trembled, my vision blurred by tears, yet my voice emerged as cold as ice.
“It’s over!”
I watched Brandon’s expression shift from panic to something darker.
“Who do you think you are?” he demanded. “For two years you lived under my roof. You’re nothing without me. Do you really think you can just leave?”
I let out a cold, hard laugh.
“Your roof? Your food?” I stared directly into his eyes. “Brandon, tell me the truth. Who paid for everything these past two years? Who worked three jobs to fund your startups?”
Chloe kept her distance, wrinkling her nose and covering it with her hand.
“Oh, those gifts Brandon bought you, those fancy restaurants he took you to-that all costs money! And now you just want to walk away!”
Those so-called “gifts” were all bought with my hard-earned money.
And those “fancy restaurants” Brandon wanted to go to? I always paid the bill.
I turned towards the door, emphasizing again.
“It’s over!”
Without another glance at them, I turned and walked away decisively.
How could I have been so blind as to fall for such an animal?
Half an hour later, a black Maybach pulled up by the curb.
Three months ago, Brandon claimed another startup failure, needing to repay a hefty sum.
He suggested I take up food delivery, proudly calling it “helping me share the burden.”
Looking back, it was all a carefully orchestrated scam.
A way to make me suffer, to avenge his Chloe.
Anyway, it’s all in the past now. Life can finally get back on track.
I quit my delivery job and packed all my belongings in my apartment.
The next day, I arrived at The Grand Astoria.
It was the city’s top hotel, and one of my grandfather’s properties.
Dragging my oversized suitcases through the opulent lobby, my rough clothes and worn canvas sneakers clashed sharply with the luxury.
Suddenly, that irritating voice sounded behind me. Chloe, in a designer dress and high heels, approached like a proud peacock.
“Well, well, isn’t this Amelia, the woman who jumped into the sewer the other day?”
I kept walking, but she grabbed my suitcase.
“What’s wrong? Dumped by Brandon, so now you’re desperate to come to a place like this to hunt for a sugar daddy?”
Her little posse burst into derisive laughter.
Someone even kicked my suitcase, scattering my clothes across the floor.
I looked at the mess, my voice calm. “Pick them up.”
Chloe dramatically rubbed her ear, then stomped her foot onto my white shirt, leaving a clear high heel mark.
“What? You want me to pick them up? How about this: you get on your knees and beg me. Maybe I’ll be in a good mood and help you then.”
More and more people gathered, some starting to egg her on. “Kneel! Kneel!”
I remained motionless. Chloe suddenly reached out and shoved me.
“Stop acting! I couldn’t stand that pretentious look on your face back in college, it just annoyed me.”
But I was ready. I sidestepped, avoiding her push.
She, however, stumbled forward from the momentum, crashing into the designer bag display rack behind her.
Limited edition designer bags tumbled down, some even scratched by the metal edges of the display.
Crash!
The lobby instantly fell silent.
Chloe’s face turned ashen. She pointed at me and shrieked. “You… you deliberately pushed me!”
“Oh my God! Those are limited editions!”
“I saw it! She definitely pushed her!”
“Hahaha, how many designer bags did that hick ruin?”
“A Chanel classic, three HermĂšs Birkins, and a few limited collaboration pieces…”
Chloe walked up to me, raising her voice. “These are worth at least five million dollars! That’s ten years in prison, easily!”
I remained silent.
Chloe walked closer, triumphantly. “I do have a good idea, though. You can get down and bow down and beg to each of these bags. For each one you beg to, I’ll pay for one of them. How about that? A good deal, right?”
A few of Chloe’s cronies snickered and crowded around.
“Yeah, get down and beg! Let’s see how the errand girl begs! Hurry up and do it, or we’ll call the police and have you arrested right now!”
Just then, Brandon stepped out of the elevator.
He saw the scene, frowning. “What’s going on?”
Chloe’s expression shifted instantly. She melted into Brandon’s arms, tears welling in her eyes. “Brandon, she tried to hurt me! She pushed me toward the display case!”
Brandon’s eyes flickered to me before returning to Chloe. “Amelia,” he said, his voice tight, “apologize to her. I can still help you through this..”
A cold laugh escaped me. “We’re done. I don’t need your help anymore.”
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